Godless
by Ydnic Macnair
Summary: Hermione Granger has just sent her parents to safety. An unexpected visitor wants to make a deal. Canon to early DH, EWE. DE/Slyther-centric, Yaxmione. COMPLETE!
1. Chapter 1

**GODLESS**

Chapter 1

_Hey, I said you're godless and  
It seems like you're a soulless friend  
As thoughtless as you were back then  
I swear that you are godless_

Hermione found that it was deceptively simple to perform the False Memory Charm on her parents; the decision that she needed to do it, however, was made over several agonizing days, during which she scanned the increasingly worrisome _Daily Prophet_ headlines. After she did, she Disillusioned herself and stood in the corner of the living room that no longer contained her life and watched in horrified fascination as she vanished from the pictures on the mantel, and then listened as her mum placed a call to the estate agents and then the travel agents. The moving and their departure to Australia were scheduled to happen over the next week, and she hoped, as the couple who were now called Wendell and Monica Wilkins bustled around her, that she'd given them enough time to escape.

She'd received an owl, a couple of days previous, from Ron, explaining that she needed to come to the Burrow as soon as she could, that it had not only replaced Grimmauld Place as Order Headquarters, but wedding planning was in full swing and his mother needed all hands on deck. She'd done an Undetectable Extension Charm on an evening bag that she and her mother had purchased at a local boutique, and had begun packing essentials into it so she could make a quick getaway if necessary. It was quite likely that she, Ron and Harry would have to go on the run in order to hunt down the Horcruxes; they'd need to leave right after the wedding, she was sure.

Several months ago, she'd come of age, although she wasn't exactly sure of the date—her activity with the Time-Turner during third year had added around eight months to her lifespan, from what she could figure. Thus, she'd been performing magic without worrying about the Trace. It wouldn't do to have Ministry officials showing up to reprimand her.

Waving her wand, she put up a Notice-Me-Not and wards around her bedroom, so she could continue sorting through the items that she planned to bring along. She'd already gone through the rather depressing task of Vanishing any irrelevant items that identified the space as being hers. The remaining items included a few personal mementos, a large stack of books, various potion-making supplies, enough changes of clothes for several months (and seasons), dress robes for the wedding, and personal care items. She didn't have a tent, but she was hoping Mr Weasley would lend her one of the ones they'd used at the Quidditch World Cup. There was no point in bringing food, because it might spoil; they'd have to forage along the way for that, as food couldn't be created from nothing, as per the exception to Gamp's Law. Of course, they'd need money, so she headed over to the Building Society and cashed out her account; as she was Muggleborn, she had not yet set up a Gringotts account.

The next morning, she awoke neither refreshed nor relaxed, and she nodded off repeatedly during the day. The estate agent had done a walk-through late on Sunday; Hermione went on a stroll around the neighborhood while they were taking pictures and signing papers with her parents. She'd managed to change the names on their various licenses and accounts and so forth; a few well-aimed Confundus Charms had done the rest. She'd been the one to put the call into their dental practice partner; the cover story for that was they were going on sabbatical due to overwork.

On Monday morning, she woke up to the noise of the movers arriving bright and early to put her parents' furniture and household goods into storage; she remained inside her room out of the way, alternately pacing and re-reading _Hogwarts, A History_ whilst thinking to herself that this too, shall pass. It was cold comfort.

The moving van departed and several minutes later, a taxicab showed up; she'd overheard her parents saying they were going to spend a night in a romantic hotel to kick off their relocation adventure. She peered through the blinds in her soon-to-be-former room and saw the driver loading her parents' suitcases into the boot and then watched the black cab as it drove down the street and turned a corner and vanished. Tears rolled down her face and she began sobbing for the first time since she'd begun the process of forcibly relocating her parents. How she was going to explain this to them, she didn't know; thoughts on that would have to wait until the Horcrux hunt had ended and the upcoming conflict had resulted in victory.

How long she'd stood there contemplating these things, she didn't know, but the light outside was suggestive of late afternoon. She raised the blinds to allow more light in, then opened the beaded bag and Summoned objects bit by bit into the capacious depths.

And then there was a noise, a quiet pop that could have been anything else, birds or animals or the house settling—but Hermione knew it wasn't. She froze, clutching her wand and the completely packed bag in her hands. A louder noise happened, one that sounded like the front door being forced open. She heard the church bells down the street begin to chime as footsteps echoed on the floor below her. And then an odd, cold swooping sensation passed over Hermione, quite similar to the feeling of the Disillusionment Charm, which she immediately performed on herself, after which she Vanished the random items remaining on the floor in her room, apart from her jacket, and secured her bag to her wrist with a Sticking Charm. She'd put up an Anti-Apparition ward several days previous, which was why the owner of the footsteps—which were getting louder by the second—had not been able to simply appear inside the house.

She recalled one of her mum's old records, "Friend or Foe," as the footsteps passed by her room—because, of course, the Notice-Me-Not still held—and continued on down the hall. _If this mystery witch or wizard were a friend_, she thought, _they'd have likely announced themselves_. Should she take down the ward? What if there were more possible foes en route? There seemed no good way to find out what was actually going on without revealing herself; the intruder clearly knew someone was home because of the charm they'd performed. She heard the sounds of the doors to her parents' bedroom and en-suite, their office, her bathroom, and the linen closet being opened, and then the footsteps retreated down the hall toward the stairway and headed back downstairs.

Slowly, hoping that no floorboards would creak, she moved toward her bedroom door and opened it. As she was wearing trainers, her steps would not echo on the bare wood floors as much as the intruders', but she put a silencing charm on her feet as added insurance. As her heart pounded, she formulated a quick plan-find out who the intruder was (hopefully without being spotted), then Disapparate to the Burrow. The Order had made no overtures to her concerning her safety or that of her parents, which she found more than a little distressing. Ron's occasional letters were the only wizarding correspondence that she'd received since she returned from school, in fact.

She glanced up and down the hall. Apart from all the doors being opened, nothing looked different. She paused; footsteps were still audible downstairs, so she moved slowly down the hall toward the stairwell. The stairs had always been a bit creaky, so she slowly crept from stair to stair until she reached the first landing. As she continued to the second landing, which offered a view of the vestibule, she heard the various doors in the dining room and kitchen area being opened.

The footsteps got even louder and she saw movement out of the corner of her eye. A wizard, his wand extended in front of him, came into view. She quickly stifled a gasp, but he'd heard her; his head turned. He was of medium height with blond hair pulled back in a braided queue, wearing a long black wool traveling cloak that superficially resembled a Muggle overcoat. She had seen his picture in the _Daily Prophet_; he was a senior Ministry official, possibly in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. She could not recall his name. _They found me even without the Trace_, she thought.

"I know you're there," he said, in a low, rather gravelly voice with a Scots accent.

Her feet felt rooted to the spot. If she moved, she'd definitely give away her position. He was likely bluffing.

"Ye've done very solid spellwork—I couldn't Apparate in—but I heard ye breathe a minute ago and I've already done the Revelio, so ye may as well show yourself," he continued. "Don't know where those Muggles went but I suspect they're not coming back."

She shifted just enough to make the stair creak, but it was enough for him.

"So ye're up there," he said, chuckling, as he turned slowly around and looked directly at the stairs. "Come out, girlie, I want to make a deal with ye."  
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AUTHOR'S NOTES

Title and lyrics at the beginning of each chapter are from "Godless" by the Dandy Warhols.

This was supposed to be a one-shot, and it isn't. It will be relatively short, though.

If you don't like redeemed DEs or Hermione/DE pairings, this is your cue to exit. Thanks!


	2. Chapter 2

GODLESS

Chapter 2

_Hey I guess you're lonely when__  
__I gave you all it took so then__  
__Stranger than it's ever been__  
__I guess, it's what you wanted_

"Nobody knows that I've come here yet," he added. "I got the address from Ministry records but I destroyed the file after. It doesn't matter, though, they can get yer address from Snape at the school, and they're going to be coming for ye soon; I was supposed to come with Dolohov on that mission. Ye should be glad I decided to come alone first."

She understood both what he was and was not saying, so he put up her strongest Shield Charm and said, quietly, "Why should I make a deal with a Death Eater?"

"Because I'm not a loyal one. Our Lord is a bit unhinged, ye see. He's wasting his efforts trying to capture the boy. The best lieutenant he's got is Lestrange and she's batshite crazy. The Malfoys are broken and humbled after months of headquartering all of us, and he's putting the Carrows and Snape in charge of the school. He sent me, without assistance, to Imperius an inept senior Auror to put in place as a puppet Minister. After he did that, I did the sums. Unless he has some sort of secret weapon stashed up his arse, we're going to lose and those of us who are left will go to Azkaban for life. And as I've sent enough lawbreakers there over the years, I know exactly how much I don't want that."

"How can I trust you?" Hermione said.

"You can't really _trust_ me, girlie," he said, chuckling again. "But I've just incriminated meself in front of ya. Ye could vanish right now and give your memories to one of your Phoenix lot. Or ya could go to the Ministry but I wouldn't recommend that course of action, it's becoming a rather unfriendly place for Muggleborns."

"So your lot _have_ taken over," she said.

"Very nearly so," he said. "Why don't ye come out from behind that spell and talk properly to me?" He held his wand up by the end, turned toward the window, and sat it down on the ledge, then walked to the middle of the room and held his hands up. "Ye can Petrify me, or Stun me, although I'd appreciate a Cushioning Charm if ye do the latter," he added.

Hermione did a non-verbal _Accio_, causing the wizard's wand to fly into her hand. He chuckled. "Good thinking," he said. She then did a non-verbal _Petrificus Totalus_, created a chair, and bound him to it with _Incarcerous_. Only then did she wave her wand to reveal herself to him. His eyes followed her as she walked down the remaining stairs into the vestibule, then she flicked her wand briefly over him to release a section of the _Petrificus_ so he could speak to her.

He smiled, but his eyes didn't. "It's nice to meet ye in person, girlie," he said.

"That's _not_ my name," she replied, frowning.

"Miss Granger, then," he said. "And my name is Yaxley."

She vaguely remembered Mr Weasley mentioning him. Possibly the Order needed better intelligence on the Death Eaters; if this wizard had created a sham Minister for Voldemort's use, he must be rather high up in the ranks, in addition to the Ministry. Of course, she was not actually an Order member, so it was a moot point. "Why are you _really_ here?" she asked, and then added, "I can hardly believe you want to make a deal, as you mentioned."

"Ye heard what I just told ye. I was perfectly happy when we all thought the Dark Lord was dead. Had he stayed that way I'd have a nice life right now, a decent position at the Ministry and I probably would have got married this year. Instead, I have to magically manipulate a number of co-workers and one of my close friends and watch my painfully stupid and thuggish cronies indulge their blood and other lusts in front of a noseless maniac who seems more interested in his own immortality than anything else." He sighed.

"I thought you said you Imperiused an incompetent senior Auror," Hermione remarked.

"Pius is a friend, but that doesn't mean I respect his abilities, or lack thereof."

"And you did Arithmancy on the upcoming war," she said.

"Aye. There is no good outcome for the Dark Lord or his cause no matter how many times I've run the sums."

"That's a relief to hear," she said, as she started to pace back and forth in front of him. "Why should I help you? Why shouldn't I just take you to the Order of the Phoenix and let them deal with you? And why have you come to me, specifically?"

He laughed, and this time his smile seemed genuine. "Young Malfoy always says ye ask a lot of questions. I came to ya because it's well known that the Potter lad and Weasley's son rely on ya for your intelligence. And it was in me sums that I needed to meet ya. I'd prefer not to deal with Shacklebolt or the rest of them; we're already well acquainted and at this point they'd hex me first and ask questions later."

"What is it that you actually want, Mr Yaxley?"

"I want my supposed master to fuck back off into that cauldron," he said, clearing his throat. "Barring that as unlikely, I want to get out of this upcoming kerfuffle with me house, accounts, and bollocks intact whilst un-incarcerated if at all possible."

Hermione stifled a chuckle at the first part of his statement but blushed at the second part. He looked at her with amused eyes.

"So what is it that you actually want me to do?" she said, attempting to move the conversation quickly along past the awkward pause.

"Put in a good word for me when this is all over. I could have just blown this place up with you in it, or called my supposed brethren here, or worse, Lestrange or Carrow; they don't exactly have a woman's touch."

"Is that all?" she said.

"I should think that would be quite enough to go on with."

"What if—what if I said…" she paused. Although the wizard had been rather forthcoming she wasn't sure she should reveal anything further, considering that the Horcruxes were a bit like a secret weapon, albeit one thankfully _not_ stored up the Dark Lord's arse; or at least she hoped not.

"What are ye tryin' to say, girlie?" Yaxley said, peering at her. She turned away from him.

"Nothing, and stop calling me that!"

"Ye think he _does_ have some sort of secret weapon, is that it?"

"Possibly," she said.

"Does it have to do with that immortality nonsense that he's constantly on about?"

"It might," she said.

"Well, if ye Unpetrify the rest of me I can do the sums to include that variable while ye watch, but ye have to give me more details."

"If you think I'm going to fall for that, you're as clueless as your pal, the puppet Minister," she said.

"Well, I guess I'm fucked, then, or we might both be, because I can't be sittin' here forever. They'll come looking for me if I don't come back to the Ministry tomorrow, for one."

"I'll let you go before then," she said. "And I'll leave at the same time."

"Good to know," he said. "Ye don't have to give me wand back, you can just let me get me parchment and quill out. I have the other sums I ran with me, I don't leave them sitting around."

Hermione couldn't help herself and blurted, "What do you do when you, er, go in the bath or something?" Then she blushed again.

He laughed. "I meant at the office; me house is warded up tighter than Umbridge's arse," he finally said.

"That's a mental image I really didn't want," Hermione said. She seemed unable to stop the words coming from her mouth; this situation was so improbable that it might well be a dream. Had the wizard Imperiused her non-verbally? He had mentioned that his Arithmancy formulae indicated that he needed to meet her. She wasn't sure what that was supposed to mean and assumed the worst. But for all his apparent earthiness, he hadn't made any improper moves toward her…of course, he was currently Petrified and unable to do much of anything.

"You're not the only one," he said, chuckling. "Just let me figure this out. As I said, if I were going to do something to harm ye, I would have done it when I first got here."

"Fine," she said, and conjured a table and a chair, which spun into existence in front of the chair where Yaxley was restrained, then canceled enough of the Petrificus for him to reach into his coat pocket to withdraw a small packet of parchment and a Self-Inking Quill. He nodded at the parchment and she tapped her wand on it to enlarge it, and then sat down across from him.

"So what is this weapon?" he said, looking directly at her. He had very intense dark blue eyes.

"It's not a weapon, _per se_," she began. "And there's more than one of them."

"That's too vague," he said. "It's something to do with immortality, ye said…can't be the Philosopher's Stone, he already tried getting that and it got destroyed…"

"That's right," Hermione said.

"And there's more than one," he said. "Some artifacts, then. It's not the Hallows, is it? That nutter Lovegood's always on about them; Merlin help us if they're actually real, that Deathstick particularly, that's the last thing anyone would want _him_ to have, an unbeatable wand…"

"What?" Hermione said, feeling rather clueless.

"The Deathly Hallows," he said. "Legendary objects supposedly handed over by Death to the three brothers in Beedle the Bard's story?" He looked at her. "Of course ye know the story; everyone has it read to them when they're a child."

"Not Muggleborn children," Hermione said.

"Really?" Yaxley asked. "Why is it that you got thrust into our world with no information?"

"I wish I knew," Hermione said. "I did as much background reading as I could before I started school and I'm still constantly amazed at how little I actually know. I mean, I've _never_ heard of these Hallows or that book." She paused. Something told her that she needed to lay her cards on the table. "I am referring to Horcruxes."

"He made more than _one_?"

"We believe he may have made seven."

"_Fuck me_," Yaxley said, and started writing down numbers in an elegant hand. "I didn't mean that literally, of course," he added, after he glanced up and noticed that Hermione was blushing again. "Ye're too young for me, girlie; I'm not Carrow or Avery."

She chose not to reply to that.

"And ye'd do well to stay far away from them," he said, as he drew symbols around the numbers and then squinted at them and added more numbers. "Now if ye and I happen to meet after this is all over, when ye're out of school and neither of us is otherwise engaged…" he let his voice drift off. "Could ye tap yer wand right there and do that sum for me?" He pointed at one of the columns of numbers. He had very nice hands, Hermione noted.

He glanced down at his work. "Ye took this subject at school, aye?" She nodded. "So what do ye think this says?" He turned the parchment around and she looked at it.

"It appears that we'll be successful, but it'll be neck-and-neck at the end."

"And I'd prefer _my_ neck to remain intact after it's over." He pointed at the parchment. "If ye could shrink that back down for me?" She tapped her wand on it and did so, and he stowed it in his jacket pocket. "We can't do a Vow because we don't have a Bonder," he said. "How would ye feel about a Blood Pact?"

"I wouldn't feel particularly good about it; is there another choice?"

"Nothing that I can think of at the moment; this is to protect ye," he said.

_Having a bit of extra protection from at least one Death Eater—and an influential one, at that—seemed like a solid plan_, Hermione thought. "I'll have to give you back your wand, though."

"Ye were going to have ta eventually," he said, reaching for his pocketwatch and consulting the time. "And since those Muggles went away, for good, I'd presume, I suspect ye have somewhere ta go before long, as well."

"You suspect correctly," she said, as she canceled the rest of the Petrificus and the Incarcerous. They both stood up, and she handed his wand to him.

"Ye're going ta young Weasley's house, then?"

"How do you know?"

"I wouldn't advise ye ta linger overlong there," he said, putting his lips in a thin line, before he held up his hand and used his wand to cut a thin line on his palm. Hermione did the same. "I, Corban Yaxley, vow never ta harm ye, Hermione Granger, and ta do my best to bring about a swift resolution to this upcoming conflict," he intoned, then he clasped her hand in his. "And I, Hermione Granger, vow the same to you," Hermione said. His hand was very warm. She felt the magical vial form in the space between them.

"Keep it safe," he said, closing her hand around it. He then lifted her hand up and kissed it. "Ye'd better drop that ward now." She lifted her wand and dropped the Apparition ward. "Head off before me," he said. "Need ta make sure I wasn't followed." She Summoned her jacket, which was the only thing left in her former bedroom, put it on, Vanished the table and chairs, and Disapparated to the Burrow.


	3. Chapter 3

GODLESS

Chapter 3

_It seems__  
__That lonely I will be__  
__I beg, I plead__  
__But this is all that I have gotten_

Hermione knew that it was a strong possibility that she, Ron and Harry might run across Yaxley whilst on their errand to retrieve the locket Horcrux from the Ministry as he'd managed to maneuver his way to become Head of the DMLE. So she ensured that the indestructible vial was safe around her neck, just in case. Of course, their luck being as it was, Ron managed to stumble across him right away due to his impersonation of a maintenance man. However, her situation turned out to be even more improbable, as Umbridge requisitioned her to be a court stenographer at a Muggleborn Registration Commission Hearing. As they walked through the shiny black marbled halls, the toadlike woman indicated that she needed to use the loo. Hermione waited in the hallway, clutching the stack of files that Umbridge had shoved at her. She didn't think anything of it when she heard footsteps behind her. There was a flash of light and the loo door locked from the outside and a strong arm grabbed her and pulled her down a side hallway and through a doorway, which turned out to lead to a small conference room.

She turned to face her abductor and her eyes grew wide. "Yaxley!" she said. He gave her a very strange look, and then he pulled her into his arms and began kissing her. "What are you doing?!" she mumbled, in between kisses (that were, she thought, rather nice). "I can't bloody well wait until tonight," he said. "Haven't seen ya all week, then, sweetheart," he murmured, as he ground himself against her.

_Oh my Merlin_, Hermione thought. _He and Hopkirk are dating! _

"I—oh," she gasped, as he ran his hands down her back and caressed her bum. "Wait—"

"I _can't_ wait," he growled. "Need ta fuck ye right now, sorry it'll be fast, I'll make it up to ye later, it should take a little while for her ta do her business and then try ta break through that spell-" He reached down between them and unbuttoned his trousers.

Drastic action was needed. "No, I mean, I'm not…look at my necklace, please…I'm Hermione Granger, I'm using Polyjuice!"

"Fuck!" he swore, and dropped his hands to his sides. He was breathing rather heavily as he peered at her neck and then slowly reached up with one finger and gently lifted the chain from which the magical vial hung. "What in the name of Salazar's fucking nightshirt are ye doin' here, girlie?"

"Umbridge has one of the Horcruxes," she said, as she looked into his eyes.

"It's that locket she started wearing, I bet. She told me it was a Selwyn family heirloom and I've been meaning ta ask Dexter about it. Me Mark starts itching whenever she comes near, that explains that." He frowned.

"Well, speaking of nightshirts that S stands for Slytherin, not Selwyn." Yaxley's eyebrows rose at this news.

"What do I need ta do ta get ye out of here safely?"

"Well, first we'd better let that horrid bitch out of the loo," Hermione said. "And then just play along with us; we don't have a very solid plan."

He chuckled. "I'll have ta make it look convincing, though," he said, as he waved his wand over his trousers to re-button them. "Was wondering why ye weren't callin' me Corry; sorry about all that."

"Corry?" Hermione said, and then blushed. "Er, no need to apologize, it was actually rather nice."

He looked at her and then took her face in his hands and kissed her thoroughly. "That's for luck, then; if I were you, I'd _not_ return to Black's house. And that's Mafalda's nickname for me, and I've never liked it," he added. Suddenly, they heard frantic pounding. Hermione picked up the stack of files and they both dashed out through the door.

Fixing a serious look on his face, Yaxley canceled the spell and then helped Umbridge up after she burst through the door and tripped over her shoes, falling to her knees. "Up ye go, lass," he said. "Let's go take care of the Mudbloods." Hermione stifled a scowl. "Come along, Mafalda," Umbridge said, with an unpleasant little simper. "If you could pull out the Cattermole file for me first, and then start sorting through the others?"

* * *

The months spent camping dragged on with very little relief; Ron left and then Ron returned and they were one more Horcrux down. When they got captured by the Snatchers, Hermione's first thought was that she wished Yaxley had told her about the Taboo, but their interactions had hardly contained comprehensive briefings…plus, Arithmancy was accurate, even though the Hallows were possibly a reality. She had been doing her level best to not think about the interaction they'd had at the Ministry, especially during the endless minutes when Ron acted immaturely.

As the Trio mourned Dobby, and then planned for the Gringotts break-in at Shell Cottage, she idly wondered if they'd encounter Yaxley on Diagon Alley; instead they met another Death Eater, Travers, the one who Hopkirk worked for, she recalled. He seemed quite unpleasant, although there was, of course, the possibility that he could be playing both sides.

And then came the Final Battle. During the first part of it, before Snape's pointless demise, before Harry's sacrifice, many of the Death Eaters had been wearing masks, and she hoped that she hadn't permanently harmed Yaxley, although she was certain that their Oath would somehow preclude that. It was a shame that she hadn't had the proper research materials to look into how all that worked; there had been nothing in the books she'd brought on their sojourn as fugitives.

After the grim parade emerged from the woods and massed by the front doors of the school, the Death Eaters had discarded their masks. Although she screamed and wailed with the rest of them when she saw Harry in Hagrid's arms, she knew in her heart the battle wasn't over. She and Ron were standing rather closely together, and when Neville made his move, she used the general pandemonium as a cover to look over the ranks to see if Yaxley still lived. As she did so, she reached for the oath pendant, a movement that had become almost mechanical over the past few months. If he was killed, would it shatter, or possibly vanish? She spotted him standing next to Antonin Dolohov and breathed a silent sigh of relief.

The end was near, she knew—what would happen then? There was no time to worry, though, as the battle resumed and all combatants were pushed back into the castle. She and Ron stayed together, dueling combatants as necessary, as well as watching in wonder as Professor Slughorn and Charlie Weasley returned with reinforcements, then cheering as the house-elves emerged and joined the fight. Time seemed to move both slowly and rapidly and she cast curses and Shield Charms and whatever was necessary…until she spotted George and Lee dueling Yaxley. Should she intervene? Without thinking too much about it she flicked her wand quickly and shielded him just as the two Gryffindors cast simultaneous Stunners and slammed the older wizard to the floor. As Ron left her side to come to the aid of his brother, she did a diagnostic charm; Yaxley was out cold and was unlikely to stir for some time, so she moved him out of the way, reinforced the Shield Charm, did a Notice-Me-Not on him for good measure and then rejoined the battle. Ron, Lee and George didn't see what she was doing, as they all high-fived and looked around for others to assist.

She had a brief, tense moment of worry when the Deathstick was mentioned; should they have factored the Hallows into their Arithmancy sums? She'd wondered for months, and wished she'd made a copy of the work he'd showed her. However, the wand landed in Harry's hand and Voldemort was slain at last, and as the morning sun began to shine down upon the beleaguered school and the combatants, she smiled. It was over.

After the battle, Harry was mobbed by well-wishers. Ron gathered with his extended family and Hermione (after hugging Harry at length and doing a couple of quick healing spells on him) wandered through the crowd, offering help and comfort where necessary. Kingsley had been named temporary Minister of Magic, and Ministry workers who'd not been part of the occupation regime or Imperiused into service were assisting in the capture of the Death Eaters who'd not attempted to escape after the battle. She spotted several MLE officers rounding up black-garbed witches and wizards, and dashed quickly over to where she'd left Yaxley.

After she lifted the Notice-Me-Not she saw that he was still unconscious, so she cast _Rennervate_. He blinked and slowly sat up, groaning a bit. A piece of stone had fallen near him and he was covered in plaster dust.

"Is it over, girlie?" he asked, after he glanced around the room. She smiled at him and nodded. "He's finished?"

"He's really most sincerely dead," she replied, as she continued to smile. He wouldn't understand the Muggle reference, but when else would she have a chance to use it in such an appropriate way?

"Thank Merlin," Yaxley breathed. "Do we still have a deal?"

"We do, but we might not have if you had harmed Lee and George," Hermione said.

"Those two were a bloody handful. I wasn't dueling to kill but they might have been," he replied, as he slowly rose to his feet and surveyed the overall damage. "Did they get me wand?"

"I'm, er, not sure," she replied. There seemed to be no stray wands strewn about the immediate area, so she muttered, "_Accio_ Yaxley's wand." An ebony wand with a silver accent flew to her hand; it appeared undamaged.

"Hold onto it," he said. "We're going to have company in a couple of minutes, Shacklebolt just spotted me. They'll probably just send me straight to Azkaban. Take this," he said, as he removed a ring from his right hand and extended it to her; she took it and stowed it in her pocket. "Need ya to contact me solicitor if ye would, please; Pucey, no. 12B, Diagon Alley. Show him the ring and he'll know what ta do; I'll give ye proper thanks when I can, sweetheart." He winked at her and then held his hands in the air, as Hermione heard the booming voice of Kingsley Shacklebolt behind her, saying, "Stay away from her, Corban, we're going to need to bring you in." Two MLE officers pointed their wands at Yaxley and bound him up.

"I have his wand," Hermione said, extending it to Kingsley.

"Good work, Hermione," Kingsley said. "I just saw Ron over that way; he and his family were looking for you."


	4. Chapter 4

GODLESS

Chapter 4

_Hey as for the day my friend__  
_

The Death Eaters who'd not left Hogwarts after the battle, as well as several who were captured while attempting to escape, were indeed transported directly to Azkaban. Meanwhile, Ron, Hermione and Harry, as well as several of their friends, enjoyed a well-deserved week of rest and relaxation in Gryffindor Tower. The house-elves bustled about, serving unlimited amounts of drinks, snacks and hearty full meals. Hermione sorted through her beaded bag and got all their clothes laundered. They played a lot of games of Gobstones, Exploding Snap, and wizard's chess, as well as taking long baths in the (thankfully undamaged) Prefect's Bathroom.

On the last day of their _de facto_ vacation, Hermione talked to Professor McGonagall, who had taken the mantle of Headmistress, and made arrangements to return to school for a final year so that she could sit her NEWTs. Ron and Harry had been invited by Kingsley to begin Auror training in a few months, about which they were excited. She made a half-hearted attempt to convince them that they needed to continue school, but they laughed at her in a friendly way. The next morning the boys went on a quick jaunt to retrieve Mr Weasley's tent, which, remarkably, had not been destroyed by the Snatchers, after which they headed straight to the Burrow to enjoy more rest and home cooking. Although Hermione was invited, she begged off, explaining that she needed to go check on her house; she'd told her friends about her parents' whereabouts but hadn't explained much beyond that.

As she'd expected, the house had been sold; there was an unfamiliar brown Audi parked outside to add to the poignancy of her disconnection from the place. The funds for the sale, of course, had gone into an interest-bearing account to finance her parents' relocation. She had a small amount of Muggle money left, and no Galleons. Thankfully, Professor McGonagall had indicated that she was welcome to call Hogwarts home for a little while longer until she could figure things out.

Her next stop was to Diagon Alley, which was ever-so-slightly beginning to recover from its wartime gloom. The law office at number 12B was open for business; there were several haughty witches in the waiting area dressed in bespoke wizarding fashion. Hermione, in her Muggle jeans, hoodie, t-shirt and trainers, felt extremely out of place. She wished, for a brief moment, that she'd worn Madam Hopkirk's borrowed business clothes, which were still bundled up in her bag. Sighing, she checked her pocket for the tenth time that morning to ensure she still had Yaxley's ring, and then flipped through a couple of pre-war copies of _Witch Weekly_ from the magazine rack.

Mr Pucey, the solicitor, looked her up and down when she finally got called into his office and she continued to regret her sartorial choices. He was in elaborate robes, had short black hair, and wore a silver pince-nez. There were stacks of parchment on every available surface as well as overstuffed bookshelves and file cabinets with more parchment stacked atop them. She sat down in the chair in front of his desk, then withdrew the ring from her jeans pocket and sat it on the pile of parchment nearest her. It was large, silver, and featured a stylized bird surrounded by two serpents.

"If you do not mind, Miss Granger, I'll need to run a few spells on both you and the ring, for everyone's confidence," he said. She assumed he was related to the Slytherin student who'd attended Hogwarts two years ahead of her class. She nodded at him and said, "That's fine."

Once he was done, he looked at her and said, "Mr Yaxley gave me sworn testimony that you and he had made a Blood Oath prior to the war that included a vow that he would not harm you and he would do his best to hasten the end of the war, and vice versa. Were you coerced into this vow?"

"I was not," Hermione said.

"What were the circumstances surrounding it?"

"He gave me information that he had gleaned from doing Arithmancy charts. I assisted him and gave him additional information. He had already concluded from his formulae that Voldemort's forces would lose the war, and he wished for me to make it clear to whoever needed to know that he'd not been loyal to the Dark Lord—his actual words were 'put in a good word for me.'"

Mr Pucey nodded. "How did you acquire his signet ring?"

"He gave it to me after the Battle of Hogwarts and asked me to bring it to you. I apologise for not coming right away, but I was exhausted and not in the best of health and needed to rest."

"That's certainly understandable. As you are no doubt aware, he is currently incarcerated in Azkaban. He owns two properties, one of which he's earmarked to give to the Ministry for war reparations; in return for this, and with your testimony and that of a couple of others accompanying, I have been given to understand that his sentence will be reduced to an amount of 5-10 years, rather than life. Of course, nobody knows when the trials will actually begin, but I suspect the Ministry will want to get all the unpleasantness out of the way as soon as possible, and my confidential source has confirmed this. Most of my other clients," and he gestured toward the waiting room, "will not be quite as fortunate." He Summoned a stack of parchment. "He did not, however, give me much information on your betrothal agreement; will I need to owl your father?"

"What?!" Hermione stood up. "We're not…I mean…he's dating Madam Hopkirk from the Ministry. We're just, er…well, I wouldn't call us friends, exactly…I suppose you'd call us associates…"

"I am _quite_ certain he has no official relationship with Madam Hopkirk," Pucey said. "She came in yesterday to give evidence to assist Mr Travers' case and indicated that they had got married just before the Battle. At any rate, Mr Yaxley had already told me that he would be asking for your hand; I was given to understand it would be by means of offering you his family ring."

"He…er, he didn't say anything about that to me, but he _had_ only just recovered from two simultaneous Stunners," Hermione said. "What was the information he gave on our, er, betrothal agreement?"

He picked up a piece of parchment and glanced at it briefly. "He wishes for you to finish school and to take your NEWTs as well as wait for no less than five years, or whatever his term of incarceration might be, to get married. In the meantime, you are permitted to reside at his family home in Suffolk—which is, obviously, the one that's not going to the Ministry—and you will be given access to one of his family vaults at Gringotts, as well as various accounts at retail establishments. All very standard for a witch of your age," he said. "After you are married, he wishes for you to sit on the family Wizengamot seat; he told me that he was certain that he'd not be able to resume his duties there after incarceration…which is absolutely correct; that seat will be in abeyance until you take it."

Hermione had never been presented with such a mental dilemma. On the one hand, there was Ron's rather sweet 'heat of the moment' kiss after they'd managed to acquire basilisk fangs from the Chamber of Secrets. She had imagined, when she'd allowed herself to think about it over the past week that they'd date for a couple of years, and then get married. On the other hand, there was Yaxley, who'd delivered several skilled, heated kisses, but while she'd been impersonating his girlfriend. Of course, he'd kissed her, 'for luck', after he knew who she actually was. And he was offering her a country home, wealth, and a Wizengamot seat; not to mention which he clearly prized knowledge and intelligence. There was, of course, the small detail that he'd been a Death Eater, but he'd said himself—and even testified to his solicitor—that he was not a loyal one.

She was certain that the limits of Mr Pucey's profession did not extend to offering romantic advice, so she merely nodded and said, "I understand."

"Do you wish to have time to consider his proposal? Or do you perhaps need to speak with him in person? I can arrange that for you, of course," Pucey said, as he looked away from here and made a note on a piece of parchment. Clearly, Hermione thought, he wanted to get on with the rest of his client work.

"Yes," Hermione said. "I mean, yes to both, time to consider, of course, and I do wish to speak with him, as well," she said.

He added a signature to the bottom of the piece of parchment, tapped it to fold it into an envelope, then stood up, opened the window, and handed the parchment to the owl perched outside.

"I'll contact you when the visit is scheduled. Where can I reach you?"

"Hogwarts, Gryffindor Tower," she said. "For now." She turned to walk off, but he cleared his throat and she turned and he handed her back Yaxley's ring. She stowed it in her pocket, opened the door, and marched past the haughty witches without paying them any more attention.

* * *

A couple of weeks went by and no owls arrived from either Mr Pucey or the Ministry. Hermione spent most of the time in blissful silence reading for pleasure and continuing her daily regimen of long baths in the Prefect's Bathroom. She also assisted with repairing the damage to the castle; several of the Hogsmeade business owners and residents had chipped in to help, along with various students and professors who'd stayed behind. There was a short, solemn memorial ceremony for the Fallen Fifty, as well as a separate funeral for Professor Snape, who was buried in an small grove on the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest.

She went to the Burrow for Sunday dinner the first week. It was an ultimately unsatisfying experience. Mrs Weasley was cordial to her, as usual, but she felt as if she was being pushed into a relationship with Ron, as if Molly had her own motherly version of the Slug Club. To make things even worse, Ron was acting so childishly that she almost couldn't stand to be near him. She understood that he was trying to work through his grief over Fred's demise, and she was, of course, grieving as well, but that didn't make the constant joking about bodily functions and other such effluvia any more tolerable. He was also running hot and cold about Harry and Ginny's relationship; they had taken up right where they'd left off a year prior, and after thirty minutes of listening to Ron's rather contradictory and hypocritical feelings on the matter, she finally told him to leave them alone and let them have their happy reunion. Life was short, and they'd all nearly perished.

To make things even worse, although everyone seemed happy to see her, nobody asked her how she was or any details about her parents or…really, anything other than superficial greetings and more jokes about her wanting to go back to school. Percy, who'd normally have taken her side, seemed more interested in getting back into his family's good graces—which she also understood.

Toward the end of the dinner she excused herself to use the loo and after she'd finished and washed her hands, she walked outside rather than rejoin the chattering extended family. It was a very pleasant evening; the stars winked overhead and she stared off into the distance at nothing in particular. The door creaked open behind her and she turned. George approached her, hands in his pockets.

"Hey, Forge," Hermione said, with a small smile.

"All right there, Hermione?"

"I guess," she said, as she stared up at the sky toward the blinking lights of a passing airplane. _I'd like to be on one of those right now_, she thought_, heading toward Australia, but I have no money to travel there the Muggle way. And I have no knowledge about how to use wizarding methods to do so without causing myself serious damage, other than that Portkeys are involved._

"It is a bit overwhelming in there," he said. "Even for me."

"I really want to go home," she said. "But—well, I don't actually have one anymore."

"Ronnikins said you were staying at school," he replied. "What happened to your home?"

"I—er, I modified my parents' memories and sent them away to Australia when it became clear that the Death Eaters were taking over the Ministry," Hermione explained. "They're still there; as far as I know they're safe, but I, er, haven't been able to travel there and find out…I don't have the resources to do so…" She let her voice drift off and idly fiddled with the necklace that now held both the Blood Oath pendant and Yaxley's ring. Somehow they'd both managed to end up on the outside of her shirt, even though she'd been trying to keep them hidden. _Are you __**sure**__ you don't have resources_? her mind nagged.

George, who was a very observant person, watched the movement of her fingers and said, "So what's all that, then? Is my feckless brother actually following betrothal traditions in order to make an honest witch out of you? Should we expect an announcement soon?" He chuckled.

"Definitely not," Hermione said, stowing the jewelry back under her shirt collar and blushing as she did so.

"Someone else, then," George said. "That's probably good."

"Thank you for not killing him," Hermione blurted, before she was even able to slap a preliminary filter on her words.

She looked at George and saw his mind working. "You _did_ put that Shield Charm on Yaxley, then. I thought I saw you do it but then I decided I'd imagined it, heat of the battle and all. We were dueling to disarm or Stun."

She nodded.

"Perce told me that he came to him before the battle and made some sort of deal, but didn't give me the details."

"He made a deal with me a year ago, after I sent my parents away," Hermione said.

"He was one of our regular customers before we had to close the shop; I guess he liked a good laugh. Never had a problem with him; even went to the Cauldron and got drinks with him a couple of times." George paused. "Thought he was dating that Ministry witch, though, the one who sent, er, me a number of letters in my misspent youth for being _improper_…" he chuckled and Hermione joined in.

"She married someone else; I just found out about it."

"If that is his signet ring you've got there, it's a clear statement of his intent. Although I suppose he's in Azkaban with the rest of them?" George said.

"Yes," Hermione said. "He has made me an offer, through his solicitor. I need to go talk with him about it."

"Well, even if you don't take Yax's offer, let Ronnikins stew for a while. In fact, my advice is to run as far away from my brother as possible for now before he manages to put his foot in it further. He's been talking to Perce and Lee and me about...well, things. Apparently he's been getting owls from a number of single witches who would like to, er, show him their appreciation for his savior act; never mind that it was actually his best friend who did that, while you were the brains of the outfit."

"Nobody's sent _me_ any owls," Hermione said.

"They probably don't know where you are," George replied. "I've been getting them, too. So has Harry, but Ginny's been intercepting his." They both laughed, and George gave her a side-hug. "I'll cover for you if you want to pop back to the castle. And tell Yax I'm sorry for scorching his arse at the Battle."  
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AUTHOR'S NOTES

There was, at one point, a story where Yaxley intercepts Mafalda!Hermione on the way to the Ministry courtroom during the Horcrux raid. I have been unable to locate said story (on the usual sites) in order to thank the author for that plot point, although in that story, the deed actually gets done between them IIRC. At any rate, I still need to give credit, so thank you, missing author!

And thank you to those who have read and reviewed so far. As you've probably noticed, this story is not meant to be epic-length, detailed, or complicated.


	5. Chapter 5

GODLESS

Chapter 5

_To hope that you could ever bend__  
_

Hermione skipped out on the next Burrow dinner; she sent an owl to George and told him to extend her regrets to everyone, although she was sure that she wouldn't actually be missed. Ron had not bothered to try to contact her outside of her visits to his home, and she steadfastly refused to contact him. Meanwhile at Hogwarts, rebuilding efforts continued apace. Most of the damage to the courtyard had been repaired and the grounds had been cleared. She spent one very long day with Professor Sprout, Neville, and other Herbology-minded types pruning branches off trees and bushes and repairing the roof on Greenhouse 3.

At the end of that day she was exhausted and dirty and bypassed the Prefects' Bath in favour of a quick shower. She considered going down to the kitchens for some food, but in the end, the idea of a comfortable bed and an even more comfortable book won out.

She found a letter on her pillow; it was addressed, in a very neat hand to _Miss Hermione Granger, Hogwarts School, Gryffindor Tower_. The return address was No. 12B Diagon Alley. She immediately cast a Notice-Me-Not around her bed, even though she was currently the only one sleeping in the room, and opened the letter, which was short and to the point.

_Miss Granger_

_You are approved to visit Azkaban this Friday morning at 11 AM in my company. Please arrive at my offices no later than 1045. The visit with Mr Yaxley will be supervised and will be limited to four hours. If you wish to bring him anything, please write back for details. All items will be thoroughly scanned and searched._

_Yours sincerely_

_Algernon Pucey_

Four hours seemed a bit excessive, but possibly it was the standard. She pulled out her writing materials and composed a short reply, stating that she would be there and asking what she was permitted to bring, then put her shoes back on and trudged to the Owlery.

She arrived at the waiting room at 1045 on Friday with a shepherd's pie, sandwiches and cookies from the Hogwarts kitchens, as well as a six-pack of butterbeer that she'd found abandoned in the Common Room. Mr Pucey supplied some recent books from Flourish and Blotts, several copies of the _Prophet_, a packet containing three pair of socks and lastly, a carton of cigarettes, because apparently they could be used for bribery. Most of the items were paid for on Yaxley's account. Pucey had added in a post-script that she was, in fact, his only visitor; his parents were deceased and he had no siblings.

There were four other witches waiting alongside her. She'd done _Accio_ in several of the empty Gryffindor dorms in an attempt to supplant her wardrobe, as using Madam Hopkirk's borrowed clothes seemed rather not on, and the dress robe she'd worn to Bill and Fleur's wedding was definitely not appropriate. Her efforts resulted in a large number of mismatched socks and several Quidditch jerseys, all of which she discarded, but she struck gold in a summer-weight robe with a Twilfitt and Tattings label, which she immediately resized to fit. She was pleased to note that she was not dressed much differently from the haughty witches, and wondered who they were going to visit, but nobody talked to or looked directly at each other. Just as she sat down, Mafalda Hopkirk entered the waiting area. Hermione immediately tried to look as inconspicuous as possible. Hopefully there would not be some sort of group meeting of all the inmates and their visitors.

Mr Pucey emerged at five minutes before the hour with a tray of random objects, which he sat on the table on top of the outdated magazines, then nodded to the witch to his left, who grabbed the first Portkey, and so on. After the unpleasant spinning sensation ended, Hermione found herself standing behind the line of witches in front of Azkaban's front door, which was massive. The wind off the North Sea whipped her hair around her head and she immediately waved her wand to put it up in a French braid. They were all escorted through the door to yet another waiting area with a strong aroma of mold and other unpleasantries. Hermione was the last to be called back; she presumed this had to do with alphabetical order.

They walked down a hall to an unmarked door, next to which a guard stood; as per Mr Pucey's instructions, she handed the bag containing the items she'd brought to him, as well as her wand, and the solicitor turned and departed. The guard opened the door and ushered her into a room in which there was a table and chairs, a sink attached to the wall, a screen which possibly hid a toilet…and a double bed with a grey coverlet. There was no window, but the air was slightly fresher than the waiting area. Hermione's jaw dropped. She'd seen such visits occur on American crime dramas on the telly, but she had no idea they occurred at Azkaban. Immediately, she planted herself on the chair furthest from the bed.

The guard knocked on the door twice, came in, placed the items on the table, ran his wand over them, nodded at her, handed her a slip of paper with which to reclaim her wand, and then departed, returning a couple of minutes later with Yaxley, who looked tired and washed-out in his Azkaban uniform. His hair was pulled back in a queue, but not braided. She noted that he had a prison number tattooed on his neck, which reminded her of Sirius. The guard said, "Four hours," and then left, slamming the door behind him.

"Er…hello," Hermione said, feeling extremely awkward. Did he expect her to sleep with him? _I haven't even decided if I want to accept his proposal yet,_ she thought.

"Hello, sweetheart," he said, as he sat down across from her. She breathed an audible sigh of relief. "We don't _have_ to use the bed, ye know, if that's what ye're worried about," and he smiled at her and chuckled.

"It's just—I didn't expect it." She looked at the table and the items she'd brought and the walls and really, anywhere else except for him. "These conjugal visit rooms are a relatively new addition," he said. "We voted on it early last year. I was all for it; I'm not heartless, contrary to popular belief," he said, chuckling again. He paused for a moment and looked at the food. "I hope ye don't think I'm impolite if I just dig in."

"Of course not," Hermione said. "All of it is for you, by the way; the food is from Hogwarts." He smiled, just before he devoured the shepherd's pie and two of the sandwiches relatively quickly, and then examined the rest of the items as he gulped down two butterbeers. "Algernon is a good solicitor, worth every knut," he said, as he looked at the books. He opened up the packet of socks and tossed them over onto the bed, then grabbed two of the cookies and ate one quickly. "Ye know, I am surprised that ye're not asking me all sorts of questions," he said, once he finished the second cookie. He stood up and walked around the table and looked down at her, then reached his hand down and lifted up the necklace. He smiled as he saw his ring hanging there. "Or perhaps ye're waiting for me to say something."

"Mr Pucey already, er, stole your thunder a bit," she said, trying not to focus on his hands, which really were quite nice.

"I suspect he did," he replied, as he took her hands in his, and then lifted them up and kissed them. "I was going to say something at the battle when I gave ye the ring, but I wasn't quite meself."

"Yes, by the way, George said to tell you he was sorry he scorched your arse," Hermione said, thinking of that conversation and smiling.

"Did he now? When ye see him next, tell him he's a great duelist, he and his friend both; it wasn't personal; and I was sorry to hear about his brother."

"I'll pass that on. He is the only one of my friends who knows you've made an offer for me."

"He's a good one," Yaxley said. "I miss going to that store; I used to buy those edible Dark Marks and incinerate them when I got annoyed." He chuckled and Hermione smiled. He smiled back and then knelt at her feet. "I don't know how long I'll be in here, but it would please me greatly if we could marry when I get out. I would give ye the life ye deserve, and although we are not as well acquainted as I would like, I feel that we are a good match."

"I have to know a few things, though, before we go on," Hermione began. "First, you said I was too young, and you also made some statements, when I was there at the Ministry, about, er, Muggleborns." She nodded at him, and he stood up and began pacing.

"And we did a Blood Pact before ye heard all that, sweetheart. I wouldn't have done the Pact with ye if I were overly concerned with purity; plus, it wouldn't have taken if ye weren't a witch. I said many things to convince others and hide in plain sight," he replied. "I've done sums on many other questions besides the outcome of the war. Blood purity ultimately results in nothing but extinct family lines. A few miles away from my house, there's a Muggle residence with the same name on, it's owned by me distant relatives, descended from Squibs."

Hermione was fascinated. "Do they know about you?"

"They don't know about me house, it's Unplottable and warded, but I've spoken to them in the village. They think I'm a distant cousin from Scotland, which is mostly true; that's where I was raised. Me mother and father had an arranged marriage, as many of the older families do, and after a while, they stopped living together. I'm certain Algernon told ya what I'm doing with the other house," he added. She nodded at him. "And as for being too young, I did stipulate that I wanted to wait to marry until ye were done with school; he told me ye'd already planned to go back for your NEWTs."

"Although most of my friends have made fun of me for that," she replied.

"More fools they," he said, as he sat down on the end of the bed, pulled off the slippers and socks he was wearing, and put on the new socks. "Did they take yer wand?" he asked, pointing to the socks he'd tossed on the floor. "I was hoping ye could _Incendio_ these; I've been washing em in the sink for two bloody months," he said, with a grimace.

"Eurgh! They did, sorry," she said. "I'll bring more socks next visit."

"We're allowed one visit per month," he said, as he stood up and headed back to the table. This time, he sat down directly next to her and took her hand. "And I would very much like it if ye would visit me every month."

"I will," she replied. He looked in her eyes and then moved forward and took her face in his hands, just like he had at the Ministry, and kissed her gently. She felt the heat between them. "Will ye accept my proposal as well?"

"Yes," and she paused. "Er, what should I call you?"

"Corban, please, not Corry, if ye would, and I promise ta try and remember ta not call ye girlie," he said, as he kissed her again, this time more deeply. He then reached for the necklace and unclasped it, removed the ring and then re-clasped it.

"I'd appreciate that," she said, and he smiled at her and took her left hand and slid the ring onto it. It immediately re-sized to fit her.

"What does this ring mean?" she asked, glancing at it.

"It's me family ring, the symbols mean 'the wise ones of the cuckoo clearing'," he said. "Over the years our name shifted with the language. Ye can read about it in me library, or ask the portraits."

"Your library?" Hermione said, beaming.

He chuckled and kissed her again. "I probably should have led off with that," he said, with a wink. "Still kind of recovering from those Stunners, and the tea here is unpalatable so I feel like I'm half asleep most of the time."

"Don't they have Healers here, to help you with recovering?"

"Only if ye're close to dying," he said, as he reached for another butterbeer, popped the lid with his thumb and took a long drink, after which he stood up. "Er, need to go behind the screen, if ye don't mind. Sorry there's not much privacy in here."

"Well, we'll have to get used to being around each other; I did live with two friends in a tent for several months, not much privacy there," Hermione said, turning away as he stepped behind the screen. He emerged and washed his hands in the sink.

"I like a quiet life, meself, so ye know. Mostly reading of an evening," he said, as he walked back over toward her. "Not to be forward, but I'd like a bit of a lie-down, would ye join me?" He extended his hand to her and she took it and he led her to the bed. "We won't do anything ye don't want."

"Er, I haven't had much, er, experience…" she let her voice drift off as he reclined on the bed and pulled her close; he was very warm. "Ye haven't had sex? Ye and young Weasley weren't involved, then?" he asked. "Sorry, but some of my associates rather presumed that ye were, and with the Potter lad as well."

"I didn't say that, but I was definitely not involved with either Ron or Harry; Harry's like my brother, and timing was never right with Ron. And, well, I've been meaning to ask, what happened with, well, you know-not You Know Who, of course-I mean Madam Hopkirk."

"Oh, her," and he chuckled, and kissed the top of her head. "Seems she was playin' Travers and me off against the other. I wanted to wait to get married, but apparently he was a bit more eager, and toward the end she never seemed to have time for me. I wished them both well."

"She's here today, visiting him, I guess."

"I thought so. Do ye know who else was visitin'?"

"Well, there were a couple of blonde witches, one taller than the other, both very attractive, and then two rather unattractive witches, both a bit overweight."

Corban laughed. "The blondes would be Selwyn's wife and Avery's wife, although she's visiting Walden, I'd suspect. And the latter two are Crabbe and Goyle's wives."

"Nobody really said anything, but do you think they know why I came here?"

"I suspect they have an idea; there are none of yer Phoenix lot in here, just Death Eaters and Snatchers and such. And Pucey is the solicitor for most of the Inner Circle. Does that worry ye?"

"Possibly a little," she replied, and then after a long pause said, "The last wizard I was involved with was Fred Weasley; we broke it off at the end of my sixth year. We kept it very quiet; we saw each other Hogsmeade weekends and occasionally during breaks. I think George was the only other person who knew."

"I'm sorry, sweetheart. I liked him."

She turned and kissed him. "Thank you," she murmured. He deepened the kiss then slid his hands down her back and pulled her close to him, and whispered to her between kisses. "I want to give ye pleasure, sweet lass, but I was hoping our first time would be…er, a bit more private."

"Someone's _watching_ us?" she whispered.

"Pretty sure, ye recall what me Ministry job was, aye?"

"Yes," she said, and then realised. "You didn't ever—"

"No, I did not," he said. "But then again I didn't have a series of high-profile war crimes trials to oversee." He slipped his hand under her robe. "Tell me what ye want. We can just kiss, that might be nice, it'll give me something to look forward to, to think about when I'm alone..." his hand circled up and his fingers brushed over her nipple. His hands were still as warm as they had been the first time she'd met him; she sighed in pleasure.

"Anticipation can be very sweet," he said. "I'll see what I can do to bribe the guards to look the other way, or we can always hide under the covers next time," and he kissed her again.

They spent the next few hours simply relaxing and enjoying each other's company between kisses, to the point where Hermione felt as if she'd always known him. He was rather earthy, but clearly intelligent and well-read. He told her that she could redecorate the house and re-do the landscaping or anything else she wanted, but freeing his house-elves was off the table; they had a good laugh about that. After she braided up his hair for him, he told her that he'd done a separate Arithmancy chart just about her, which was the main reason why he'd come to her house that day, to see what exactly was and could be between them…and he told her he was falling in love with her, when the four hours were nearly up, but he murmured it so quietly that she almost didn't hear him.

Just after that, two sharp raps came on the door, and he jumped up and helped her off the bed. Two guards came in, picked up his items from the table, and hustled him away before he had a chance to tell her goodbye.

She continued her routine at school for another week before sending an owl to Mr Pucey to find out the particulars of moving to Corban's house. She quietly informed Professor McGonagall that she'd found a place to live and said she'd send an owl once she got there; her plan was to continue assisting with the rebuilding work for a couple of days per week until term started. Apparently 'eighth year' students, of which she was now considered one, were permitted to Floo in for classes from their residences, rather than living on site.

When Mr Pucey's return owl arrived late one afternoon, she Summoned all her belongings into her beaded bag and Flooed to the Leaky Cauldron without looking back.

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AUTHOR'S NOTES

And thank you to those who have read and reviewed so far. This story was originally envisioned as a one-shot for my reviewer pal SilverOrbedLioness, and it got away from me quickly.

The Hermione-as-Mafalda story is called "A Sidestep before the Locket" and it is missing from AO3 and was never on this site, apparently. If you are the author of that story and are reading this one, I thank you for the Yax/Mafalda plot point, which I changed a bit.

Also, credit goes to Selmak for her story, "The Well Bred Warlock" (which is HIGHLY recommended BTW), I borrowed the idea of Yax being into Arithmancy from her. She expands on that idea much better than I.

As for fan/facecasts, feel free to pick your own Yax. (I am now and will always be a Peter Mullan fan.) Solicitor Pucey is being played by John Nettles from Midsomer Murders.

PurpleCaboose, nice to hear from you! I agree with your comments, having been around active duty military, LEOs, and veterans for most of my life.


	6. Chapter 6

GODLESS

Chapter 6

_I swear you are, I swear you are__  
_

The controlled chaos in Mr Pucey's office had increased since Hermione's last visit there, but he was quick and efficient as always.

"Most witches and wizards do not bother with house keys for reasons that I'm sure are obvious to you," he said, giving her an approving look. She'd once again worn the borrowed Twilfitt and Tattings robe, and put her hair back in a French braid. "However, there is a chatelaine for you to wear as the mistress of Yaxley Hall; it is necessary for you to have it on your person to pass through the wards. We will need to go to Gringotts to pick it up." He stood up and walked over to a file cabinet, out of which he produced a key, which he stowed in his robe pocket.

Hermione frowned. "Er, I'm not sure that I'm exactly welcome there at the moment." Although it felt as if the break-in had happened in another life, it had only been a matter of weeks, really.

"I'm aware of that. I will be speaking on your behalf. Once you are given access to your vault, I'm certain there won't be any further issues."

Prior to the dragon-assisted break-in, Hermione had only ever gone to the currency conversion desk with her parents to change pounds to Galleons so she could buy school supplies. While the goblins had been nominally polite through the process, it was clear that they were hardly respected customers. "So has the damage been repaired, then?" she asked, as Mr Pucey stood up and waved his wand to open the door for her.

"Mostly, I believe. I'm not certain they've put in a replacement dragon yet, though, and that is the level on which the Yaxley vaults are located." He waved his wand at the door to close and lock it, and offered Hermione his arm to escort her down the stairs and out onto Diagon Alley. Today, there were more people bustling about than there had been on her two previous visits. There were workers milling around several of the storefronts, doing magically-assisted repairs. Sadly, Fortescues and Ollivanders were still boarded up. She didn't see anyone she recognized, but she noticed a few curious glances directed her way. Mr Pucey was silent as they approached the bank; the two guards in front seemed identical to the ones who'd always been there, and they passed the Probity Probe test easily. Although Hermione noticed a few scorch marks and missing stonework, the lobby looked exactly as she remembered it, other than that there were fewer tellers on duty. She and Mr Pucey, however, were ushered to a private room; Hermione didn't recognize the goblin who assisted them.

Mr Pucey produced the key and explained that Hermione, as Mr Yaxley's intended, needed to be added as signatory on the Lady's Vault, as well as given access to several charge accounts. He then produced a list of the accounts, which he handed to Hermione. Atop it there was a delivery service, which likely provided food and beverages; the rest of the list included familiar Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade stores. She was pleased (and unsurprised) to note that both Flourish and Blotts and Tomes and Scrolls were on the list. After Hermione signed her name and added a drop of blood to the parchment, she was handed a key, and the goblin escorted them out of the office.

As they crossed the lobby toward the vault entrances, Hermione caught a glimpse of red hair and turned toward Bill Weasley, who was carrying a stack of files, his wand tucked behind his ear. He looked extremely surprised to see her, and glanced between Mr Pucey and their goblin escort several times, clearly in an attempt to ascertain what was going on.

"Hello, Bill," Hermione finally said.

"Er, hello, Hermione, I didn't expect to see you here," Bill finally replied. They were all standing in the middle of the hallway; both Mr Pucey and the private banking goblin were glancing back and forth at each other. Mr Pucey spoke up. "Miss Granger, I apologise for asking you to hasten along, but I do have another appointment right after this one."

"Oh! Yes, I'm sorry, Bill, we'll have to catch up later; there's something I needed to ask your advice about," Hermione said, as she allowed herself to be escorted away. Bill didn't move and continued staring as they disappeared through the doorway.

The cart ride was every bit as horrible as it had been when she, Harry and Ron had liberated the Hufflepuff cup, although this time, the Thief's Downfall didn't soak them, it merely flowed over their heads. The area where they'd fought the goblins and released the dragon had obviously been repaired; like the upstairs, there were several lingering scorch marks on the walls and a few stones missing from vault entrances, but otherwise, all seemed intact. They passed by the area where the Lestrange vault was, and proceeded down a twisting corridor, at the end of which were four vaults. The goblin led Hermione to the one on the far right, which contained a rather fair amount of Galleons, several jewelry cases, and some ornamental robes hanging within Stasis Charms. Mr Pucey handed her Corban's pocketwatch, explaining that he'd managed to get it out of Ministry custody, and recommended that she store both it and the Blood Oath pendant in one of the jewelry cases, and withdraw a little walking-around money, which she did. The chatelaine was a large, round, silver brooch emblazoned with the snake/bird motif, with a number of small keys and charms hanging down from it. She stowed it in her bag along with the Galleons.

After they exited the bank, Mr Pucey directed her to a side alley, which she'd never seen, then took her arm and Disapparated them to a stone gate in the middle of a rather pleasant stand of woods. He directed her to hold up the chatelaine; together they passed through the gate and encountered a medium-sized manor house that looked, to her eyes, as if it had been built in the 16th century. He explained that they were currently in Suffolk, and that he'd let the house-elves know she was coming. She smiled as she recalled the conversation she'd had with Corban; he'd insisted that his elves were treated fairly. Just as he finished his sentence, an elf, dressed in a tunic, appeared at the door and enthusiastically welcomed "Missy Hermione" and insisted that she come in so that Reemy could help her freshen up, have tea, and see the library, all of which sounded wonderful to her. Mr. Pucey shook her hand, told her he'd send her an owl prior to her next Azkaban visit, and Disapparated away promptly.

Hermione spent most of that day and the rest of the week holed up in the library doing a bit of organization, aided by the elves. She cleared off a desk for her NEWT studies, and Summoned all the books that might aid her in that endeavour, which turned out to be several large, teetering stacks. The first evening, she wandered around a bit upstairs, unsure as to which bedroom she should occupy; Reemy found her and directed her to a second master suite that was connected to "Master Corban's" rooms. They, unsurprisingly, were closed up, and although she was curious, she decided not to pry. Her room was tastefully decorated and had a lovely view of the surrounding woods. She withdrew her belongings from her bag and stored them in the closet, which served to underscore how little she currently owned.

On Saturday morning, the elves brought her an envelope on a silver platter, which she opened promptly, assuming it was from Pucey; it turned out to be from Bill Weasley. She checked the address—he'd sent it to Pucey's office first, and it had been forwarded on.

_Dear Hermione,_

_I'm not sure exactly what is going on, but I trust you know what you're doing. I hope to see you at the Burrow tomorrow for Sunday dinner; I will be glad to give any advice or assistance I can. _

_Best, Bill_

_Should I attend…or should I just let it ride until, at least, the trials begin?_ she pondered, as she went upstairs for a bath. She was completely besotted with the bathtub; it was large, had a window atop it overlooking the woods, and was surrounded by candles. She'd moved a small stack of books up to enjoy while she bathed, but she eschewed reading in favour of continuing to mentally debate about going to dinner. She didn't really wish to cut ties with the Weasleys, but they might wish to in light of her current alliance; she spent the rest of the day overthinking her attendance.

* * *

The next day, dressed in Muggle wear, she headed for the Burrow. When she arrived, she ran into Harry and Ron who, brooms in hand, were heading out the door, and she hugged them. Ginny, George, Lee and Bill followed behind them and she walked up to the makeshift Quidditch pitch and spent a rather diverting hour cheering her friends on as they played three-a-side, and all was quite refreshingly normal.

Molly called them to supper, which was being served outside, as the sun dipped below the horizon; she and Ginny helped set the table. Things went as per usual until late in the meal, when Arthur, who was sitting at the head of the table to Hermione's immediate left, asked her to pass the parsnips, which were awkwardly placed, so she used her left hand to pass them. He smiled and nodded and then squinted at the plate and then her hand and gave her a very odd look at the same time that the conversation around the table had come to a brief pause.

"Hermione," he said, very seriously, in a rather loud voice. "I thought you were Muggleborn. Are you by chance related to the Yaxleys?" _Not yet, exactly_, she thought, as she blushed bright red.

Bill was sitting across from them and overheard. She saw understanding flash in his eyes. "Would that have anything to do with why you were at Gringotts the other day with Pucey, the solicitor?"

"Er…yes," she muttered, hoping that nobody was listening. George, who was sitting next to Bill, had overheard and said, "So you _did_ take his offer, then," and smiled and winked at her.

"Pucey is the solicitor for most of the higher-ranking Death Eaters! What kind of offer did Yaxley make to you?" Arthur said.

"Er, it's not important," Hermione said.

"What are you lot on about?" Ron shouted. "Hermione, what's going on? Why are you talking about that arsehole? He nearly killed us!" _He very deliberately did __**not**_, Hermione thought, although she did recall him aiming a Stinging Hex directly at Ron's arse; she suspected, in retrospect, that might have been on purpose. She wondered if it would be considered bad form to Disapparate directly from the dinner table.

"I should have done more than Stun him that day," Harry said.

"Who are you talking about?" Ginny asked.

"That Death Eater, Yaxley, the one who was in charge of the DMLE," Harry said. "The one who caused us to go on the run for months after he chased us from the Ministry!" _You mean the one who stopped us from returning to Grimmauld Place because his cronies knew we were staying there_, Hermione thought, although she had neglected to reveal that at the time. Possibly she _should_ have mentioned something to her friends about her deal with Yaxley during that extended camping trip, but there was a lot going on…first, Ron had got Splinched, and then all of them had been dealing with the locket Horcrux and its horrible insidious effects, and then Ron had run off, and then they'd been considering the Hallows, not to mention the constant cold and lack of food…and she hadn't actually seen Corban again until after Harry had made his sacrifice…not to mention that neither Ron nor Harry would have likely taken very well to the news that she'd been in close contact with a Death Eater.

"He _wasn't_ loyal to the Dark Lord," Percy said. "He came to me in secret and swore out an affidavit. I'll be giving evidence as part of his defence, as I imagine you might be doing, as well, Hermione." _If I don't just decide to fuck off for Australia right now and never look back_, she thought.

"What? He was at the battle, I saw him!" Ron said. "Lee and George, you saw him, too, you knocked him down! 'Mione, you were right there with me!"

"He wasn't trying to kill us, Ronnikins," George said, winking at Hermione again.

"What kind of offer did he make you, Hermione?" Molly asked, from the other end of the table. "He's well-known as being quite the charmer." _Great_, Hermione thought, _**just**__ what I wanted to hear, and now I'm even more painfully aware of our age difference_. It hadn't seemed to bother her when she'd talked with him; it was, in fact, rather refreshing to speak with a wizard who wasn't obsessed with Quidditch or practical jokes and who respected her intelligence, as well as complimenting her appearance.

"If you're wearing his family ring, Hermione, I assume he made an offer for your hand and you accepted," Arthur said. O_h, Mr Weasley, __**why**__ couldn't you have stuck with being obsessed with Muggle bric-a-brac like usual,_ Hermione thought.

"WHAT?!" Ron yelled, and stood up. "That's not on! Tell me that's not true, 'Mione!"

Hermione stood up. "I'll be glad to, as long as you tell _me_ that you're not seriously answering any of those perfumed owls from the Desperate Witches Fan Club," she said, and sat down her napkin. Ron started spluttering. "Mr Weasley, Mrs Weasley, thank you for dinner. Bill, I'll stop by Gringotts and speak with you later," and she walked away from the table.

There was a general commotion, during which nobody got up to follow her. Figuring that said volumes, she Disapparated quietly home.

.

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AUTHOR'S NOTES

Thank you to all who have read and reviewed so far. As I mentioned earlier, this was supposed to be a one-shot. I have at least five more chapters roughed out.

PurpleCaboose—I got a very clear mental picture from your comment; it sounds as if you are raising your kids right!


	7. Chapter 7

GODLESS

Chapter 7

_I swear, that you are godless__  
_

Late the next morning, as she enjoyed coffee in the library, the elves brought her a stack of letters; all appeared to have been sent through Pucey's office and then forwarded. Two of them were bright red, and she immediately hit both with _Incendio_. Bill sent a fairly polite note listing his work hours at the bank and suggesting that they meet for lunch or coffee. Ginny sent her a "thank you" card; on the inside, she explained that Ron had been a right git for weeks and she was glad that Hermione had stood up to him; she also asked for her address. George had sent a small packet that contained some edible Dark Marks and a note saying, "If you're permitted, pass these on with my compliments. Congratulations!" She replied to both Ginny and George with her address and encouraged them to write or visit, but to not share the address with their brother. Then, before she could think too much about it, she wrote a quick note to Professor McGonagall, informing her of her address and then one to Mr Pucey, politely requesting that he screen all further correspondence.

The next few Hogwarts work days proceeded without incident, other than that she was quite exhausted—both physically and mentally—when she returned from them. Mr Pucey's return owl was short, yet reassuring—he would be pleased, of course, to screen her correspondence, and he provided a list of dates of the upcoming six months of Azkaban visits. She used Flourish and Blotts' Owl Order service to obtain a large desk calendar, and proceeded to fill the rest of the summer up with preliminary NEWT studying, rebuilding duties, and the visits; with a regular schedule, she felt close to normal for the first time since she'd left school at the end of Sixth Year. She also ordered several classic yet unostentatious robes from Twilfitt and Tattings as well as a new purse (with a built-in Extension Charm), and retired her beaded bag, but she continued to wear her Muggle clothes to the work days.

The day that Great Hall rebuilding commenced in earnest was a sobering one for all participants. Hermione was put in charge of repairing the house point hourglasses, which would then be re-enchanted by Professor Flitwick. The gems had spread out all over the wreckage of the Hall, so it was rather mesmerising to watch them fly through the air into their restored containers in a shimmering, limited rainbow. After the last few gems had been located through persistent use of the Summoning Charm, Hermione directed her helpers to take a quick break. She stared idly in the direction of the wall where she'd concealed Corban during the Final Battle, and was just beginning to let her thoughts drift in his direction when she heard someone sit beside her and clear their throat.

"Oh, hello, Professor McGonagall," Hermione said. She'd not really been looking forward to this conversation, but there was no way to avoid it.

"I think, even though you have not yet completed your education, given the circumstances, we should continue on a first-name basis, Hermione," Minerva replied, giving her a small smile.

"Very well, then, Minerva; it's lovely to see you."

"That was superb spellwork," Minerva said, as she gestured at the Gryffindor hourglass, from which a towering stack of rubies shone.

"Yes, it was one of the most satisfying charms I've ever done," Hermione said, beaming.

"I received your owl," Minerva said; her face was expressionless. "You'll need to apply to the Ministry to get, er, your fireplace connected to mine so you can come through for classes. I'd suggest doing so right away in case any issues arise."

"I'll have my solicitor handle it," Hermione replied.

"Are you _quite_ sure you know what you're doing, Hermione?" Minerva asked, after a long, uncomfortable pause. "If you need someone to talk to, I am always available."

"If you'll listen to me, rather than shouting around and at me like most of the Weasleys have," Hermione began. "I might consider it."

"I'm simply concerned that he might be taking advantage of you."

"And you believe he's doing that by providing me with a home and means and a chance to participate in wizarding government…but first insisting that I finish my education?" She raised her eyebrows.

"He's well-known for being…well, a witches' wizard," Minerva said.

Hermione had to stifle a smile at the expression, and thought of the mistaken identity Ministry incident. "I'm quite aware of that. And yet, he's acted honorably with me, despite that reputation, about which Molly also felt the need to inform me."

"And of course there's the matter of his past alliance."

"He made a Blood Oath with me, after informing me that he wasn't a loyal Death Eater."

Minerva merely said, "That's interesting."

"That all happened last year, the day I sent my parents away for their safety, something that I had to do on my own." She stood up. "At some point, I need to ask both you and Professor Flitwick for advice about that, but for now, I'd really like to finish up my shift, if you'll excuse me." Minerva seemed as if she wanted to say something more, but she merely nodded and smiled as the other witch walked off to work on the next task.

For the next Azkaban visit, Hermione purchased a month's worth of socks, as well as a grooming kit that she hoped would be permitted, as she recalled that Corban had mentioned that they weren't provided either combs or hairbrushes. Reemy and the other house-elves packed a basket full of home cooking; she asked them to make extra biscuits for the guards to create goodwill. Mr Pucey had indicated that he'd continue to provide reading and bribery material each time (some of the packets of cigarettes had Galleons enclosed), but had noted that bringing any WWW products would be pushing it. She also made a quick visit to St Mungo's witches' clinic.

She was the first to arrive to Mr Pucey's office on the scheduled visiting day, and had just opened her book when Mrs Avery and Mrs Selwyn came in and sat down near her.

"Good morning, Miss Granger," said the first witch.

"Good morning; I'm sorry, but I'm afraid we've not yet been introduced," Hermione responded.

"Lucinda Avery," she replied, "And please do meet my friend, Clara Selwyn, as well."

"It's a pleasure to meet you both," Hermione said. "Although I realize these are not ideal circumstances."

"Most certainly," Lucinda said. Her face held no discernible expression. "We both believe that Corban is fortunate to have you on his side." She paused for a moment, and Mrs Selwyn nodded in assent. "Congratulations on your engagement."

"He's a superb dancer," Clara added. "I hope that you will be able to experience that for yourself sooner than later."

Hermione recalled watching him duel at the Final Battle; he'd looked lethally graceful, and she'd been impressed. She nodded at Clara. "Thank you both. I hope so, as well."

"Has Mr Pucey said anything to you about trial dates?" Lucinda asked.

"Nothing but a possibly substantiated statement that the Ministry wants to get things over with as quickly as possible," she said.

"Yes, that's all we've heard," Lucinda replied, and paused for a moment. "If you would be so kind to let us know when you will be at home to receive visitors, we can continue this conversation."

"I will be at home all this weekend," Hermione replied, and figuring she might as well do the thing right, she added, "I'll, er, have the elves arrange a light lunch for us, if you'd like to come on Sunday at 1." They both nodded, just as the door opened to reveal Mafalda Hopkirk, Mrs Crabbe, and Mrs Goyle, and Hermione picked up her book, effectively ending the conversation. Mrs Avery and Mrs Selwyn gave her quick smiles then remained silent until Mr Pucey entered with the Portkeys.

After they'd arrived at Azkaban and Hermione was escorted down the hall, she handed her bag and wand to the guard standing in front of the visiting room. He took her wand and handed her a receipt for it, but did not scan her bag and simply handed it back to her; she figured that the bribes had taken effect. When he opened the door and escorted her into the room, Corban was already inside, sitting at the table. She withdrew the extra packet of biscuits and handed them to the guard with her most innocent smile. He smiled back at her, said, "Five hours," nodded at Corban, and left.

"These must be rather valuable currency; they bought us an extra hour," she said, handing him the cigarettes.

"They are, and were those Reemy's biscuits I saw you handing him?" he said, with a rather large smile.

"I brought plenty for you, never fear, plus a chocolate cake and all your favorites, according to the elves," she replied, as she continued to withdraw items from the bag. "The guards didn't even ask to look at my bag this time…I could have brought those edible Dark Marks that George sent for you…"

He smiled at her. "It helps that I was a fairly benevolent boss," Corban said, as he reached back and pulled the tie out of his hair, which then fell about his shoulders. "However, bringing Weasley products in could possibly result in all that goodwill evaporating, depending on who's on duty."

"He also sent his, er, non-edible congratulations, as well."

"Do be sure to tell him I said thank ye."

She handed him the grooming kit. "I hope they'll let you keep this."

"I'll make sure to conceal it—thank ye, sweetheart," he added, as he accepted the socks with a smile, glanced quickly at the books and newspapers, and then pulled off his slippers and socks. "If ya don't mind, I'm, er, going to get cleaned up a bit," and he stood up, walked over to her, lifted up her hand and kissed her palm. "I've been dreaming about this day for the past month, and they wouldn't allow us to bathe this morning."

"What's the point of that?" Hermione asked.

"Many of the rules here are arbitrary, designed to humble us," he said, frowning. "And this is yet another one." He stripped off his tunic and draped it on a chair. "I—er, again, I'm sorry for the lack of privacy." He turned on the water in the sink, and she turned away while he washed and dried himself, but when he was done, she stood up and approached him. He was not overly muscular, but was rather well-built, and had a light dusting of blond chest hair and several scars crisscrossing his arms and torso. She observed the graying remnants of the Mark on his forearm; he noticed where she was looking. "I was hoping it would vanish completely. Many of the others are darker than mine," he said, quietly.

"I'm certain of that," she murmured, as she kicked her shoes off and then slipped her robe over her head. She'd not bothered with a bra that morning, and she stepped out of her knickers and looked up at him. He sighed, deeply. "Ye're so beautiful, sweetheart," he said, and his eyes widened as she reached down to unbutton his trousers. "Are ye sure?"

"Very sure," she replied, as she led him over toward the bed, then sat in front of him and slipped his trousers off. He was quite large and quite excited.

"I've wanted ye since I first saw ye," he said, as she pulled him down on top of her.

"Show me how much," she murmured, before she kissed him.

"So bloody much," he groaned.

Afterward, they lay together, sated for the moment.

"I do wish we were at the house," Hermione said.

"Our house," he interjected. "Ours, for as long as ye'll have me."

"That sounds perfect," she said. "Because I truly adore that bathtub."

He chuckled. "I thought ye might like it. There's one in me suite as well." He pulled her close and kissed her. "I, er, hope ye don't mind, but I'm a bit hungry…" She kissed him back and then withdrew from him and stood up. "There's no point in sitting at the table; what do you want to eat?"

He smiled broadly. "All of it!"

They enjoyed a picnic in bed featuring chicken, fruit, fried potatoes, salad, butterbeer and finally, the chocolate cake—laughing, they fed each other pieces of it; he licked the crumbs off her where they fell. They spent hours in a haze of joy and pleasure, and when he took her for the third time, he told her that he loved her. He sat up not long after that, and said, with a slight frown, as he caressed her, "We'd better get dressed…unfortunately. They told me they'd stay away as long as they could, but I want to preserve your modesty."

"Oh, er, I thought I should bring up something…" she began.

"Ye've done a fine job bringing things up, but if ye do that again we might get interrupted," he said, smiling at her.

She laughed. "I mean, er, preventing things, you know…"

"Are ye on the potion?" he asked. "Or do ye prefer the charm?"

"The potion, I just started at St Mungo's last week."

He nodded. "I would like to talk about having children, but that can wait; ye have NEWTs to achieve and your career ta start; plus, I would like to be out of here so I can assist."

Hermione beamed. "You have no idea how happy you've made me saying that." She continued to smile at him as she stood up, then she briefly vanished behind the screen, emerged, washed her hands and returned with their clothes.

"When I come home, we can spend entire days unclad," he said, as he slipped his tunic over his head. "We can sleep outdoors in the original clearing, ye'll like it." He reached down and took a drink of butterbeer, finishing the bottle.

"Will the cuckoos wake us up?" she said, as she re-donned her knickers and robe.

"We can silence 'em," he said, as he stepped into his trousers. He sat back down on the bed and she sat next to him. "I love that you smell like home, by the way. The elves make the soap ye've been using. I've seen them at it. They use herbs from the garden out back." He sighed. "I really hope I'm able to get out of here sooner than later."

"I'll bring some of the soap next time. Mr Pucey still hasn't mentioned anything about a trial date," she said, as she leaned into him.

"I know," Corban said. "He meets with all of us once a week." He kissed the top of her head.

"Mrs Avery and Mrs Selwyn are coming to lunch on Sunday," she said, after a pause during which they kissed.

"I thought they'd be approaching ya soon," he said. "Mrs Avery is—well, she's not really _with_ Avery, she's Walden's mistress. Mrs Selwyn is a good lass. Dexter—her husband—can't dance, so I'd dance with her at the balls and the parties." He smiled, as if recalling a particularly pleasant memory, or memories. "I suspect Dexter and I, and possibly Tobias, will get out before the others. Algernon has mentioned that the Ministry is offering deportation as an option, and I think Walden will be taking that. I'd be surprised if Herbert ever gets out of here, so he and Lucinda will probably leave together…" he let his voice drift off, because she was looking at him oddly.

"I'm sorry," Hermione said, "It's just—I'm not used to, er…all the first names, I suppose…" He looked directly at her. "Or thinking of my colleagues as anything other than masked terrorists, I imagine," he finished.

"Well, yes," she said. "Minerva McGonagall is particularly concerned about me associating with you, as are most of the Weasleys, apart from George and Ginny."

"I thought that sort of thing might happen," Corban said, as he stretched his legs out. "It's not as if I'll be getting out of here tomorrow, so they'll have lots of time to get used to it."

"I'm fairly sure Ron will never get used to us being together, but then again, this is the same supposed _friend_ who spent years ignoring the fact that I was a girl, and then tried to suck the face off Lavender Brown in front of me in the Gryffindor Common Room." She paused. "And now he's got all these witches writing lonely hearts owls to him. Ugh!"

"I'm glad I stung his arse, then. What was it ye said the first time we met—a mental image ye didn't want?" Corban asked.

"That had to do with Madam Umbridge."

"Please, sweetheart, we just ate," Corban said, with a wink, and then he cleared his throat. "There are alliances being formed between those of us who are more pragmatic and would prefer to return to a semblance of normality which means, of course, accepting some of the inevitable changes. Then there are those who are…."

"True believers?" Hermione interjected. "Such as the Carrows, I'd presume, and Avery?"

"Exactly so," he replied. "Resistant to change; thus under the current administration they'll remain here. I will warn you that there is always a danger of some of those types taking revenge; I'd recommend that ye, er, not be hasty to retrieve the Muggles ya sent away, and be very careful with whom ye associate. Lucinda and Clara are fine, of course. I had a talk with Avery last week which resulted in him calling me a blood traitor, but on the bright side, he was sent ta solitary confinement for a month."

Hermione frowned. "Blood traitor because of your association with me?"

Corban nodded and said, "Sod him. He's a bootlicking toady who has no respect for witches. I hope he rots here, but I'm not afraid of him if he does manage to slither out of here."

The guard came in not long after that, and Hermione headed home, feeling satisfied yet oddly disconnected.

.

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AUTHOR'S NOTES

Thank you to all who are reading and all who have reviewed so far. A special shout-out goes to Ryukotsusei for being awesome!

I'm...very out of practice with lemony goodness. Sorry for the fade to black here.

I'll be away from fic-writing for a bit due to DragonCon in Atlanta. Y'all be good.


	8. Chapter 8

GODLESS

Chapter 8

_Hey, I said you're godless man  
_

Hermione was intimidated by the mere idea of two Death Eater wives arriving for luncheon on Sunday. She'd been assured by Reemy that everything would be taken care of, but, nevertheless, she tried on each of her new Twilfitt and Tattings robes several times before she picked just the right one, and then she went overboard with Sleekeazy's Potion, and one of the other elves assisted in putting her hair up. A third elf appeared with appropriate earrings for her, and it was a testament to her extreme nervousness that she simply put them on without worrying about their provenance.

Apparently, the protocol for visiting her new residence was that the elves met visitors at the front gate then brought them directly to a receiving room on the lower level; Corban, as she'd expected, took security seriously. When she arrived in the receiving room, the elves were serving drinks to the two witches, who stood up to greet her. Both insisted on being referred to by their first names, and both complimented Hermione on her robe and hair. She returned the favour, and after a bit of small talk about the weather and the latest _Prophet_ gossip (which was, unfortunately, mostly about Ron being seen out on the town with a variety of witches), Reemy appeared to escort them all to the dining room for lunch. Hermione felt extremely out-of-place, but went with it, because she was extremely curious about what the witches would have to say.

It turned out that they were indeed interested in making an alliance with her, although they didn't come right out and say it in those words. The conversation consisted of more compliments on her appearance, and many more compliments on her bravery and intelligence, and then several vague statements about how the wizarding world had become stagnant and that certain factions (by which they obviously meant the Death Eaters, but they mentioned neither the group nor the Dark Lord by name) had been overzealous and that _most_ of their friends and relatives agreed that it was best for everyone to attempt to get along and move on past any unpleasantness. It was then that Lucinda explained that her husband was unfortunately _quite_ stuck in the past and that she was in the process of getting divorced from him, in favour of eventually marrying her long-time friend and consort Walden Macnair, who'd suffered the unfortunate loss of his wife during the war at the hands of the Pretender.

Hermione looked rather puzzled at that last revelation, and Lucinda explained that the more progressive-minded among 'the brethren,' beginning with Lucius Malfoy, had adopted that sobriquet rather than such gauche nicknames as You-Know-Who or Lord Thingy. _It did rather make sense in a historical sort of way_, she thought, and it was rather easier to wrap her mind around that than to imagine the fearsome executioner being anyone's long-time friend, much less lover—or Mr Malfoy being considered progressive. _Of course_, she thought, _most who know me are probably having similar issues with my current relationship._

"Hermione, I do wish to tell you that Corban confided in me about his intentions toward you at the last dinner party we had here; by that time it was rather obvious that he'd moved on from Mafalda…" Clara began.

"Well, I should say so. Of course, she married Tobias the very next week, I heard, kept it quiet-"Lucinda interjected.

"I'm sure you _might_ be wondering about our closeness; I know I would if I were in your place. I do wish to assure you that Corban and I were just friends; as I told you before, he is an excellent dancer and sadly Dexter cannot dance at all, so we were dance partners at most formal functions," Clara said.

_Oh my Godric_, Hermione thought. _I probably need to start making notes on all these alliances and so forth, just in case_. "He did mention that to me," she said, nodding at Clara.

"Corban is quite charming and as a result he has always had a reputation as being…well, _rakish_, but that's undeserved," Clara continued. "He's always been exclusive in his relationships, never strayed."

"It was Mafalda who was straying and everyone knew it," Lucinda said. "Hermione, I did consider asking you if she could join us today, but I thought it best for us three to meet privately first."

"Well," Hermione began. "I wouldn't have a problem with her visiting, but, er…she might possibly have an issue with me."

Both Clara and Lucinda chuckled politely, but Clara spoke up. "Yes, Corban told us both about that. If you'd like, I'll send her an owl and broach the subject; if things work out, and I suspect they will, we can have our next luncheon at my house prior to next month's visiting day."

"What about, er, the other witches who visit…"Hermione began.

There were more polite chuckles, and Lucinda said, "Mrs Crabbe and Mrs Goyle are hardly fit company for such an intelligent and gracious witch as you. I have heard a rumour that there will be another visitor in the near future for Rabastan, however."

"I've heard that as well," Clara added. "I suspect you might know her; Pansy Parkinson?"

"We know each other," Hermione said, as she inwardly groaned. There was likely to be no discreet way to hex antlers onto her former school rival whilst enjoying tea; she'd just have to attempt to be polite.

* * *

As the weather grew warmer, Hermione performed a lot of Atmospheric Charms and spent most of her time in the library, the bath, and occasionally outdoors. Corban's family library was quite extensive, and by the time her second full month as a resident had passed, she'd completely re-organized the shelves and added in more reading nooks. School rebuilding duties continued without incident; everyone was too busy getting their various tasks completed to worry about who was involved with whom, which was just fine with Hermione.

A week prior to August's Azkaban visit, she received an owl inviting her to Selwyn Manor for tea. Mafalda Hopkirk attended this time, and while the first few minutes of their interaction were rather awkward, eventually (after Hermione apologized for The Polyjuice Incident without giving details of her run-in with Corban) they settled into an uneasy détente during which neither of them discussed their past or current amours. Thankfully, Pansy was not there, but unfortunately, she was expected to be at Pucey's office for the next visiting day. Mr Pucey had also informed Clara and told her to pass on the news that the trials were slated to begin in January, primarily because the Ministry needed some extra time for renovations (which, Hermione hoped, would primarily include the removal of the horrible statue from the Atrium), but mostly because nobody wanted to start the trials prior or during the Yuletide season.

It was assumed by all (most importantly Mr Pucey, of course) that Corban, Dexter and Tobias would be out of Azkaban in three to five years. Lucinda stated that Walden was going to immediately plead guilty and take the deportation option; she would be acting as his sponsor and moving with him to a house in Connecticut which she'd purchased from Lucius Malfoy. Both Hermione and Clara offered up their guest rooms to Lucinda for visits home. The Avery estate would probably be confiscated for reparations, and Herbert Avery would remain in Azkaban for life. Nobody knew what would happen with Mr Crabbe and Mr Goyle, least of all their wives. As for the recently engaged Mr Lestrange, there was a general consensus that Pansy Parkinson was a fortune-hunter, and Rabastan would be lucky to find anything left in his vaults once he got out of Azkaban, presuming he wasn't going to stay there for life.

The day before the visit, she sent an owl to Bill Weasley to see if he'd be able to meet later that week, and explaining that she needed some advice on how best to recover her parents' memories.

* * *

The Azkaban visit proceeded much as the previous ones had. Pansy was indeed in Mr Pucey's waiting room but she ignored Hermione, other than giving her a sharp, nearly-polite nod when everyone ringed the Portkeys. She and Corban were once again allowed five hours together, and the guard thanked Hermione profusely for the biscuits (she had brought twice as many). This time, the elves had packed a large quantity of roast beef sandwiches, fresh fruit, crisps, chocolate chip biscuits, and pumpkin juice, and she'd brought the usual socks and reading material, as well as several cakes of the elf-made soap.

Corban smiled broadly and loosed his hair from its queue as she unpacked the items; after she was done, he stood up and pulled her gently to her feet and then carried her, bridal-style, to the bed. After he laid her down, he began slowly unbuttoning her robe as he murmured to her, "I stayed up all night last night because I couldn't wait ta see ya."

"So did I," Hermione replied, as she kissed him. "Why does this feel so right?"

"Our magic is compatible, sweetheart," he said, as he slipped her robe over her head and then removed his tunic. "It was in the Arithmancy charts I did; I ran the sums more than once just to be sure. No matter how I interpreted them, they indicated ye belonged with me and I didn't want to believe that at first…"

"Because I'm who I am and you're…"

"Like I was, but that was because of family tradition. I'm the last, the scion of my house—of _our_ house. I'd rather make new traditions than have no family at all, which is what I told Avery before I took him down in a round of Muggle dueling in the showers." After he said that last bit, he winked, and then unbuttoned his trousers and slid them off. "Better me beating his arse than Walden, he wouldn't have gotten up after that, and he started it, so he went back to solitary for another month."

"Sounds as if nobody will miss him, either way," Hermione replied, as she began to slip off her knickers. His hand reached over hers to slow her progress. "Let me do that, my love," he said. "I want to taste you…" and he did, for nearly half an hour, after which she was so relaxed she felt as if she were drifting off to sleep. Corban woke up her up, though, with a round of vigorous lovemaking that went on for another half hour.

"I do wish I could Accio all that food over here; I should have tried to sneak in an unregistered wand." Hermione said, as they lay together afterward. His arms tightened around her and he kissed the top of her head and then laughed. "Are ye sure you want to be telling a former Ministry official such things? I'd have ta report ye, it would probably help me case," he said, chuckling.

"I'm sure that you could be bribed with a sandwich and some biscuits," Hermione said, as she extricated herself and padded over to the table to retrieve the food.

"Believe me, the biscuits and the smokes both helped with the Avery kerfluffle," Corban said, as he gratefully accepted a sandwich and began eating it as quickly as he could without being impolite. After the first few bites he made a pleasured noise that sounded much like the ones he'd been making a few minutes earlier. He blotted his mouth and said, "'M not sure what's in the beef stew they serve here but it's so tasteless that it probably involves some kind of corollary to Gamp's Law."

Hermione laughed. "I'll bring more roast beef next visit, and you can have all the sandwiches."

"I truly do love ye, Hermione," Corban said, winking at her. "Not just saying that _because_ of the sandwiches…"

"But letting you have them doesn't hurt," Hermione finished, as she reached for an apple.

"Right ye are," he said, as he reached for a bottle of pumpkin juice.

* * *

A week later, Hermione was puttering about the library. She'd decided to try and do her own Arithmancy concerning her and Corban's relationship. Apparently, the Yaxleys were enamored of the subject, because summoning all the books she'd need in order to read the numbers correctly had caused a small literary avalanche to occur, knocking over the entire contents of her desk, including a pot of ink, and she'd just managed to clear up most of the mess when Reemy appeared.

"Missy Hermione, you has visitors at the front gate. Reemy has not brought them in yet because you did not tell us they were coming."

"Oh!" Hermione said. "I'm sorry; I didn't know anyone would be visiting today, either. Er…who are they?"

"A Miss Weasley, a Mr Weasley and a Mr Potter," Reemy replied.

"Er…could you bring them straight here to the library rather than the receiving room? And bring a tea service?" _Using biscuits for bribery_, Hermione thought, _could work on one's friends, as well_.

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AUTHOR'S NOTES

Please do not feel as if you must be locked in to the film casting to enjoy this story-pick your own Yax as a fan/facecast. The fabulous Freya Ishtar uses Michael Fassbender, and Calebski uses…I'm not sure who, but someone big and muscular, and she also gives him the first name of Reuben (because prior to 2016 there was no canon first name for Yaxley). I've also had both Iain Glen and Charlie Hunnam suggested as well.

Thank you to all reviewers! There are only a few chapters left to this story; things will be wrapping up soon.


	9. Chapter 9

GODLESS

Chapter 9

_Hey and you're a soulless friend  
_

Harry was alternately glancing around the library (which was not a small room and featured large mullioned windows that overlooked the woods), scowling, then taking large bites of biscuit (he'd eaten six so far), but had not said anything as yet beyond his rather perfunctory greeting to Hermione, which had included a rather sterile half-hug.

Bill was doing much the same as Harry, but he had gotten up to examine several of the bookshelves, and Hermione thought she saw a fleeting look of envy cross his face.

Meanwhile, after a long bout of silence, Ginny began chattering away, attempting to cover up the awkwardness. "This tea is delicious and the biscuits are sensational. And this room is amazing! Hermione, no wonder you've been staying here, this must be close to your idea of heaven," she said, after she ate another biscuit. Reemy refilled her tea cup.

"Can't be _heaven_ if it's owned by an evil git like Yaxley," Harry grunted.

"Harry! We agreed, before we came here, that you'd try to have an open mind. I thought you talked to Perce!"

"I did; my opinion hasn't changed," Harry said, as he devoured another biscuit.

"Thanks, Harry," Hermione said. "I appreciate the support."

"Maybe if you'd told us what was going on while we were on the run for all those months," Harry said, taking a sip of tea. "Instead of suddenly moving here and getting engaged to a Death Eater right after we stopped fighting them!"

"There was hardly time to do that, Harry, and neither of you would have listened."

"He tried to kill us at the Ministry!"

"He did _not_. He chased us away, and I'm sure you recall that he waved all his flunkies off and made sure he was the only one doing so. He said, before that, he'd have to make it look convincing. And he told me that the Death Eaters knew we were at Grimmauld Place and to not go back there; it was likely only a matter of time before we'd have been trapped there somehow. He warned us against staying too long at the Burrow for the wedding, as well—sorry, Bill." She paused. "He did admit to stinging Ron's arse, though, and right now, I'm _not_ sorry he did that."

"I agree Ron's being a git, Hermione, we've all told him as much, but that doesn't mean you should be hanging round with dodgy Death Eaters and their wives!"

"So, you're suggesting that instead, I should just sit around waiting for Ron to get his head out of his arse, at Hogwarts, like the swot you all think I am? And while I'm doing that, leave my parents in Australia without their actual memories?"

"I didn't say that," Harry said.

"That was my only other option, and quite honestly it's one I wouldn't have taken, even if Corban hadn't proposed," Hermione replied.

"I can't believe you're calling him by his first name!" Harry yelled. "Kingsley told me he's a real…you know…ladies' man. They had these Revels, you know, these parties…._and_ he was dating that Madam Hopkirk, the one you impersonated!"

"A ladies' man like Ron is turning out to be?" Hermione said, glaring back at Harry. "And as for Madam Hopkirk…who, by the way, is getting married to someone else…believe me, I'm well aware of that," Hermione said, and she smiled and blushed a bit.

Ginny laughed. "What's the story there?"

"There might have been a _little_ case of mistaken identity," Hermione said, and then took a sip of tea.

"Did he _kiss_ you or something?" Ginny said, spluttering.

Hermione nodded, "Or _something_." Ginny laughed.

"You've probably done a lot more than _kiss_ him on those visits to Azkaban," Harry said. "Yes, I know all about those!"

"Well spotted, Auror Trainee Potter. Do you actually do any sort of work at your new job, or just gossip all day? Guess you'd better fire-call Rita Skeeter, see if she's still got her Quick-Quotes Quill," Hermione riposted. "What happens when I visit him is our business—including calling him by his first name—and we're engaged, as was just reported in the _Prophet_, which I'm sure is why you're visiting here today. Of course, I'm having all my owls screened by Mr Pucey, so I have no idea if anyone's bothered about it…other than you…and you already knew about it at any rate."

"Pucey is the solicitor for Voldemort's Inner Circle!" Harry said, angrily.

"Yes, we were all sitting there at the table when Mr Weasley said that. And everyone's entitled to a solicitor, Harry, last time I checked, even if wizarding law does tend toward the medieval."

Harry just stared at her and then blurted, "You heard him say all that bigoted stuff about Mudbloods at the Ministry! We were all there, we all heard him say that!" He paused. "Well, you didn't, Ginny, and neither did you, Bill, but he was horrible! He called witches like Hermione filth!"

"Harry, do you actually want to know how all this came to be, or do you want to just yell at me about Mudbloods and Death Eaters all afternoon?" Hermione rolled her eyes. "You might want to wait for five years or so for Corban to get out of Azkaban to have that conversation, instead, because there _are_ other things I could be doing right now. I have a NEWT study schedule, for one; term is starting in a couple of weeks! And Bill, if you aren't willing to give me any advice about getting my parents' memories back because of who I've chosen to associate with, I can always just go and ask Professor Flitwick."

Ginny stood up. "Harry, Bill, we all talked about this, and we agreed we'd listen to Hermione!"

"I'll listen," Bill said. "And I'll give you advice about your parents."

"And I'll listen," Harry said. "But I doubt I'll change my mind."

"Fair enough," Hermione said, and began her story.

About an hour later, after Bill, Harry and Ginny had finished asking her their final questions; Hermione called the elves and asked her friends if they wanted to have dinner. Harry enthusiastically agreed, even though (or perhaps because) he'd eaten his way through another platter of biscuits. Bill begged off, saying that Fleur was waiting for him, but he agreed to have lunch at the Leaky with Hermione later that week. She escorted him to the fireplace (which Mr Pucey had got connected up to the Floo Network the previous month).

"Thank you, Bill," Hermione said. "I'll see you at the Leaky."

"I still don't trust him," Bill said. "But I do trust you."

"That means a lot," she said, and she reached forward and gave Bill a side-hug, which he returned, before he tossed the glittering powder into the flames and shouted, "Shell Cottage!"

When Hermione joined Harry and Ginny at the dinner table, she noted that Harry was making short work of the platter of hors d'oeuvres that the elves had brought, as well as gulping down a goblet of butterbeer. She didn't say anything, because she was well aware that he was still trying to regain his strength lost over the year on the run—not to mention that he'd been raised by Muggles who'd practically starved him. Instead, she waved at Reemy and asked her to bring more appetizers and keep the butterbeer flowing.

In the spirit of positivity, she decided to ask about the Auror Training Program, which both Harry and Ron had just started, and was treated to a rather long diatribe about Dark Wizards in general and Death Eaters in particular, especially ones who'd managed to escape after the Final Battle; the most notorious of these was, to her chagrin, Antonin Dolohov.

"He and Yaxley were rather close associates, you know," Harry said, giving Hermione a rather pointed look. She already knew this; during the last visit, one of the few uncomfortable conversations they'd had occurred after Corban had caught sight of the purple scar on her abdomen and had asked its provenance. He'd explained that he and "Tosha" were friends, but he'd lost sight of him during the battle, and he'd not asked Mr Pucey the whereabouts of any of his missing colleagues as of yet. He'd also noticed the scar that Bellatrix Lestrange had inflicted, and had assured her that he no longer used that word, even as a ruse.

"Yes, Harry, I know," Hermione said, sighing.

"Both of them were experts at the Imperius," Harry continued.

"Are you actually trying to imply that I might be under some sort of long-term Imperius? For one thing, victims of the Imperius are supposed to feel good, and we were all miserable during our months on the run. Secondly, when Corban came to my house, he willingly surrendered his wand to me. Thirdly, at the Final Battle, after Lee and George stunned him, I captured his wand before the Aurors took him away. And lastly, I would have thrown it off by now, _if_ there had been a curse to throw off in the first place!"

"He could have done it wandlessly!" Harry shouted, after which he began making rather disgruntled huffing noises.

"Again—I remember when Crouch taught us, I remember what it felt like—_and_ what it felt like being cursed by a Death Eater, come to think of it—_and_ I can tell you I haven't felt anything like that since that class!" Hermione said, raising her voice a bit.

"Harry," Ginny said. "Looks as if dinner is served." Three elves, including Reemy, were in the process of levitating platters to the table. Harry stopped making the disgruntled noises and gratefully accepted the stack of roast beef that Reemy moved toward his plate. "You'd think he never eats, but he was just at the Burrow for breakfast today," Ginny said to Hermione.

"Auror training is rather tough," Harry said, after he'd made his way through the first stack of beef and reached for a second.

"It sounds more like indoctrination rather than training to me," Hermione muttered.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Harry said, after he'd used three of his dinner rolls to make miniature sandwiches. Reemy appeared at his side with a pot of brown mustard, which he gratefully accepted.

"Look it up," Hermione said. "There's an OED in the library."

"I'm not looking in a Death Eater's library for anything!" Harry shouted.

"Q.E.D.," Hermione riposted. "And for your information, the OED is a _Muggle_ dictionary; and it's my library as well since I live here."

"Yes, and that's another thing," Harry said. "Why can't you just come and live at the Burrow? Why do you have to live under his roof?" After this rather annoying pronouncement, he proceeded to stuff a sandwich down his gullet.

"Have you even been listening to anything I've said since you got here, Harry? Here are the highlights, since you seem unwilling to remember. Corban and I are engaged, and I plan to marry him. I met him before the war started, and he protected me (and us) to the best of his ability, as he vowed he would. We are rather compatible in many ways, and he's offered me the sanctuary of his home. I can't live at the Burrow because if I do live there—and I'm sorry, Ginny—"she paused.

"It's fine, Hermione—"Ginny interjected. "I'm not sure why Harry is going on about you living at the Burrow when we're moving to Grimmauld Place next week, anyway—"

"…as I was saying, I can't live under the same roof with Ron or it would be hazardous to his health," Hermione said, and then paused again. "Is he moving to London as well?"

"Oh, of _course_ he is," Ginny said. "And what Harry isn't telling you is that he's hardly been home for the past month. George said he saw him out in Muggle London with Romilda Vane!"

"Why am I not surprised?" Hermione said. "Of course, I don't begrudge him any happiness, but if I learned one thing during all those months on the run, Harry, it's that Ron and I are not at all well-suited. We have next to nothing to talk about, because I'm not interested in Quidditch, especially the Chudley Cannons. He spent years ignoring the fact that I was a girl, then got offended when Viktor asked me out…then spent most of Sixth Year attempting to make me jealous. I probably should have told him that was pointless."

"Because you were dating my brother," Ginny said with a far-away look in her eyes.

"Yes," Hermione said. "And I do miss him; I think of him every day."

"What?" Harry said. "You were dating Fred?"

"I was," Hermione said. "We broke it off, but remained friends."

"How did I not know about that?" Harry said.

"You were focused on other things that year."

"I knew," Ginny said. "But only because I caught him sending you an owl over Christmas," she added.

"Well—"Harry said, after he took a long drink of butterbeer. "Why…er, why don't you just—"

"Harry James Potter, don't you _even_ think of suggesting what I think you're about to suggest," Hermione said, standing up and looming over the table. "If you will all pardon me, I'll be back in a bit." As she walked through the doorway toward the loo, she heard Ginny saying, "Harry! That's not on!"

When she returned, Harry mumbled, "Sorry" in Hermione's general direction.

"As well you should be," she said. The elves followed behind her; they were carrying a treacle tart and a chocolate cake. "It's a good thing you apologised," she added, as she directed them to put the treacle tart in front of Harry. "I could have put this out for the birds."

* * *

The next morning, Hermione woke up slowly and her head was pounding; uncharacteristically, she'd had several snifters of brandy after her friends had left. Finding no water on her bedside table, she called for the elves, who very promptly brought her tea, toast, water, and a Pain Potion. _There was definitely something to be said for staying at the home of an adult wizard_, Hermione thought. She doubted that going to visit Madam Pomfrey would have resulted in a judgment-free hangover cure.

Rather than jumping back in to her preliminary NEWT studies or the Arithmancy she'd planned, she decided to take a walk around the property to see the extent of the wards. Corban had mentioned "the original clearing" to her, and she was hoping to see it, and possibly do some outdoor reading while the weather was still co-operating.

Reemy, however, was strangely unhelpful when she asked information about the clearing, or, in fact, anything having to do with the outlying property, other than suggesting that Missy Hermione might enjoy a picnic under the old oak tree, which was about 50 yards from the house.

"Am I not permitted to see the rest of the grounds?" Hermione asked.

Reemy wrung her hands. "You is mistress of Yaxley Hall, you can go anywhere you wish, Missy Hermione."

"Then why won't you show me how to get to the clearing? Did, er, Master Corban," and she paused, because she _really_ didn't relish calling him that as it was rather patriarchal, "Did he tell you not to allow me there?" _Possibly it was a ritual site_, she mused, but he'd certainly not hinted at any such thing, he'd suggested that they could sleep there, and she assumed by that he'd probably meant enjoy amorous activities. _Possibly he'd just wanted to save it for when he got home, _she thought, but he'd not said that, either. She waved her wand to lace up her trainers and decided to set out on her own. "Never mind, Reemy, thank you," she added, before she Disapparated to the rear portico. She then headed directly to the stand of woods.

About five minutes into her aimless wandering, she held up her wand, and later, when she thought about that afternoon, she couldn't explain what had motivated her to do _Homenum Revelio_, but she wasn't that surprised when the spell revealed the glimmering outline of a person.

She Disapparated back to the house and called for Reemy.

"Who is out in the woods, Reemy?" she asked. "Is someone staying out there?"

Reemy wrung her hands again and said nothing.

"Is it one of Master Corban's friends?" she asked, suppressing a grimace, and then she recalled the conversation she'd had with Harry yesterday. "Is it…Master Tosha?"

Reemy just looked at her; clearly the elf had been compelled in some way. She stepped over to the fireplace to fire-call Mr Pucey.

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AUTHOR'S NOTES

Hi, PurpleCaboose! I do a whereabouts spreadsheet for all my DE stories, so here are the ones you asked about: All Malfoys are on house arrest. Nott Sr is in Azkaban but he's not married, so he's not getting conjugal visits; same with Rowle. Goyle, Nott Jr and Flint weren't DEs in this universe, so they are at their respective homes.

Once again, thank you to all who have read and reviewed!


	10. Chapter 10

GODLESS

Chapter 10

_Hey I said you're thoughtless  
_

She tossed the glittering powder into the flames, and called, "Mr Pucey's office!" Thankfully, Mr Pucey was there, and even more thankfully, he was on his own and gestured her through. She stepped onto the hearth and brushed the ashes from her clothes with a casual flick of her wand.

"To what do I owe the pleasure, Miss Granger?" Mr Pucey asked. He was dressed in his usual elaborate robes, and she realised, too late, that she was in the jeans and jumper that she'd donned in order to trek through the forest. _It's not as if he hasn't seen me in Muggle-wear before_, she thought.

"I'm afraid this isn't a social call, sir. It appears that Antonin Dolohov is on the grounds of Yaxley Hall; I have no idea how long he's been there. I believe he's ordered the elves to not speak of his presence." She paused. "I realize that Corban, er...that Mr Yaxley and Mr Dolohov are friends, but he's currently wanted by the Ministry, and we've had….er…previous unpleasant encounters." She paused. She'd had to take a rather foul-tasting potion for many months after the encounter in the Department of Mysteries, and, of course, the scar had yet to fade. "I did _Homenum Revelio_; thus, he may have been alerted to my presence. I need to know; is Mr Yaxley party to this?"

Mr Pucey sat up straighter. "Mr Dolohov spent some time at your residence after his release from prison as he owns no residence in the British Isles; however, that was before Malfoy Manor was made available as headquarters for the illegal organisation to which both he and Mr Yaxley belonged."

_That's got to be the most convoluted way of saying that both were Death Eaters, ever_, Hermione thought, _but what else would one expect from a solicitor?_ _And hadn't Dolohov actually been broken out of Azkaban by Voldemort, rather than released?_ She decided not to put voice to these thoughts and instead asked, "So, it's possible that the elves might have lingering allegiance to him because he was a prior semi-permanent houseguest?"

"I'd say that is quite possible," Mr Pucey said.

"As Mr Yaxley's solicitor, and mine," Hermione asked, "What do you recommend I do about this situation?"

"Miss Granger, this was anticipated; Mr Yaxley wishes for you to contact the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and have them round up Mr Dolohov."

"He…er, wants me to sell out his friend?" Hermione asked. "That seems…" _Rather Slytherin_, she thought, as she let her voice drift off. _There has to be something more behind this, but I have the feeling Mr Pucey won't be letting me in on it right away._

Mr Pucey said nothing for a short while, and then stood up, walked over to his fireplace, and handed her a container of Floo Powder. "I believe it is best that you go on your own to this particular errand; the address is Ministry Visitors' Floo."

Hermione had, of course, not been back to the Ministry since the locket Horcrux caper, and she was hardly surprised to find that she appeared in the very same Floo which she, Ron, Harry (and Corban) had used that day. Feeling rather out of place, she walked down the entrance hallway into the Atrium. The shiny black marble had been lightened. The horrid, oppressive "Magic is Might" statue had been removed, but nothing had replaced it; its absence made the vast chamber seem even larger. The fountain was empty and dry, and most of the workers seemed to shy away from it. After she noticed more than a few curious glances directed her way, she flicked her wand over herself and did a discreet Notice-Me-Not.

To continue the tone of anti-authoritarianism, instead of phalanxes of guards blocking the way to the lifts, there was a lone, bored security wizard sitting at a desk; he examined her wand and handed her a name tag that read "Hermione Granger, Visitor to DMLE" before he directed her onward. She emerged from the lift on Level 2 and stepped into a large waiting area which featured a reception desk, a row of uncomfortable-looking wooden chairs, and a battered table with magazines and newspapers stacked atop it. On the wall behind the chairs, there was a sign featuring the DMLE logo surrounded by a large number of framed portraits and wizarding photographs of Department Heads from 1707 to the present. As she slowly approached the desk, she noted that the current (acting) Head was Gawain Robards; there was a photograph to his immediate left of Corban, who looked quite dour and would not meet her gaze.

Just as she reached the desk, she lifted the spell, and the receptionist clearly recognized her. "Miss Granger!" she said, smiling. "How can I help you today?"

"Hello, I need to see whoever is in charge of fugitive Death Eaters, and it's rather urgent," Hermione replied.

"Yes, you'll need to speak with Mr Robards; he'll be with you straightaway," and while she said this, she tapped at her desk with her wand. Hermione assumed this was some sort of notification method. She walked over and sat down, all the while attempting to not look at the picture of Corban; she'd noticed that he was depicted wearing the same frock coat/robe he'd been wearing the day of the Horcrux quest, and she squirmed in the chair (which was indeed uncomfortable) until Robards finally emerged.

"Miss Granger," he said, motioning to her; she stood up and followed him to his office, which was large and rather elaborate and featured a window overlooking the Atrium. It was in a state of disarray; books and files were precariously stacked on nearly every surface while the bookshelves were half empty, and there was an open carton with random items haphazardly piled into it sitting on one of the visitors' chairs. He sat at his desk and she sat down in the empty chair. He was tall, with auburn hair; she recalled seeing him after the Final Battle, rounding up Death Eaters and Snatchers.

"I apologize, but I've not yet managed to clear out everything left behind by my predecessor," and then he looked at Hermione for a moment and raised his eyebrows a slight bit, and she knew he'd read the news in the _Prophet_ of her engagement, and she blushed, and he cleared his throat, and she decided to simply forge on.

"Mr Robards, I have reason to believe that Antonin Dolohov is hiding out in the woods behind my, er current residence." She paused for a moment. "Harry told me at dinner yesterday that he's first on the list of wanted fugitives."

"Mr Potter is correct," Robards said. "Your current residence is…?" and he let his voice drift off just as Hermione glanced up at a picture of a familiar country house that hung next to one of the bookshelves, and Mr Robards followed her glance and then they both spoke in unison, "Yaxley Hall in Suffolk."

To his credit, Mr Robards merely cleared his throat again. "I assume you'll need to come with us to get us through the wards?"

"Yes," Hermione said. "When will we be going?"

"Less than half an hour, I should think," he said, as he jotted a few words on a piece of parchment, and then tapped his wand on it to turn it into a paper airplane, which then obligingly vanished. "You may wait in here." He stood up. "There's an ice box with butterbeers in it; feel free to have one. And the private loo is through there," he added, gesturing first at a cabinet in the corner and then a door not far from it, as he exited rapidly, closing the main door behind him.

Hermione had managed to tamp down her curiosity concerning Corban's rooms at home and had not pried, but she had no such qualms about his former office, so after she took the proffered butterbeer and drank half of it, she wandered about browsing through the books and files. Most of the former were dusty tomes concerning wizarding law, which she assumed would be returned to the shelves at some point. The latter seemed to mostly be related to the defunct Muggleborn Registration Commission. She recalled Corban telling her, when he'd visited her house, that he'd destroyed her file, but she saw a few familiar names and pictures, and she wondered why all the files were here, rather than in Umbridge's office. Possibly Robards had moved them; possibly they were evidence of some sort.

There was a stack of newer-looking files on the desk, and she noted that the top one had the name Avery on. Assuming that these were active investigations, she left those alone and instead rummaged through the box containing random items, which were obviously all Corban's. Most of them were framed pictures and official certifications; the first one she picked up depicted a group of Slytherin students. The two students at the front of the group held up a banner reading "1977," and they were both laughing. A young-looking Corban, his hair pulled back, was standing in the back row; she assumed this was his Seventh Year portrait. As she examined it, he looked at her directly and winked. Another picture showed Corban and Mafalda Hopkirk standing rather close together, smiling, and clad in dress robes, obviously attending some sort of Ministry function, as the late, lamented Fountain of Magical Brethren could be seen in the background. Underneath that, she discovered a Weasley's Wizard Wheezes bag; inside were a few edible Dark Marks, and she chuckled at these. At the bottom of the box lay an empty elaborate cut-glass spirits decanter, a hairbrush, a bottle of something that looked like cologne, and an empty wand holster. She wondered what would happen to the wand she'd taken from him at the Final Battle; likely, it would be snapped, or possibly already had been. Lastly, there was a Puddlemere United banner, folded up; Corban had not mentioned Quidditch to her previously at all; maybe he'd been a casual supporter of the team in his younger days.

After she took another drink of butterbeer she decided that further investigation would have to wait; for one thing, Robards would be coming back, probably sooner than later. The boxed items were likely to make their way back to their home at some point, and none of them had been particularly surprising. In fact, they'd all corroborated Corban's statements, so she was ultimately reassured. Figuring that it might be best, she visited the loo, and not long after she emerged, Robards appeared and escorted her to the lobby.

Two Aurors, who she thought were called Proudfoot and Dawlish, as well as Harry and Ron, sat on the chairs; Ron was flipping through _Witch Weekly_. She inwardly groaned and attempted to paste a smile on her face; she was partially successful. Ron, to his detriment, stood up and said, "Why is _she_ here?!"

"Auror Trainee Weasley," Robards said, sternly, "Curb your tongue. Miss Granger's presence is required to get us through the wards at Yaxley Hall." He reached in his pocket and took out an empty butterbeer bottle, tapped it with his wand, and intoned _Portus_. The rest of the Aurors stood up and approached the Portkey. Hermione shifted around so that she didn't have to stand next to Ron, everyone put a finger on the bottle, and they lifted off, landing in front of the gates. Reemy appeared, but when she saw Hermione, she stepped back, and the gates swung open. Ron made a not-very-quiet disgruntled sort of noise. Harry muttered, "Shut it, Ron!"

"Weasley, Potter, I'm not asking you again to keep quiet. Standard Cloaking Procedures, everyone. Miss Granger, if you'd indicate the approximate area where you scanned the suspect, then go inside and proceed with your normal daily activities; I will send you a Patronus when we're done," Robards said. Hermione watched as Harry, Ron, Proudfoot and Dawlish disappeared behind what she assumed were Disillusionment Charms, then she explained Dolohov's likely whereabouts to Robards, who likewise vanished. She took Reemy's hand, and the elf Disapparated them to the library.

"I know you can't say anything, Reemy, and I appreciate that. If you would, have a tea service ready for when my, er, friends finish with their work."

"Reemy knows they is Aurors, Missy Hermione. The three older ones came to dinner here before, many times."

About thirty minutes later, a glowing white hawk Patronus came through the library window, and Hermione sat down her quill as the hawk said, in Robards' voice, "_Dolohov captured, meet us at front door_." Reemy was standing at the open door when she approached it. Proudfoot and Dawlish were not in evidence; Hermione assumed they'd taken Dolohov with them to Azkaban. Inwardly groaning again, she offered hospitality to the remaining three. Robards was gracious, Harry was nominally polite, and Ron looked as if someone (possibly Harry) had done a Confundus Charm on him, which was a minor blessing. Reemy led them to the receiving room and brought a tea service, and they spent a rather awkward thirty minutes sipping tea (although Harry plowed through the biscuits as he had the previous day). Robards explained that the charges against Dolohov had been dropped during the year of Voldemort's reign, but the Wizengamot and the Ministry had chosen to essentially bury those records, and thus he was being returned to Azkaban to serve out the rest of his previously-levied sentence.

"You should tell her about Yaxley!" Ron blurted, as the conversation appeared to be winding down.

"Auror Trainee Weasley, once again, hold your tongue. Miss Granger, thank you for your hospitality and your timely assistance. The Ministry thanks you," Robards said, as he stood up and indicated that Harry and Ron should, as well. Harry gave Hermione a half-hug, and Ron pretended she didn't exist; Reemy appeared and escorted them all to the door.

The Prophet's reporting on Dolohov's capture left out most of the salient details, and for that, Hermione was grateful, because according to Mr Pucey, the volume of suspicious letters that she'd been receiving had only slightly decreased. At this point, she assumed most of them were from Ron, though, and chose not to dwell on the matter. However, she did choose to use various concealing and appearance-altering charms on herself when she went to lunch with Bill at the Leaky Cauldron. He was very polite and expressed the proper amount of sympathy and regret when she explained to him what she'd done to her parents, as she'd glossed over the details at their previous meeting. He told her that he'd look into possible solutions and get back to her as soon as he could.

* * *

On September 1st, the Hogwarts term began, and it turned out to be a very different experience for Hermione and the handful of students who'd chosen to return for their "Eighth Year" NEWT studies. For one, all of them were Flooing in daily, and Headmistress McGonagall had decided that they'd attend the necessary class sessions as a group, rather than be divided by house. There were eight Ravenclaws, six Slytherins (including Draco Malfoy and Theodore Nott; she'd been told by Corban that they were both on house arrest, but Minerva explained they were being given special dispensation by the Ministry to complete their studies), four Hufflepuffs, and two Gryffindors (herself and Parvati Patil). A separate table had been arranged for them in the Great Hall; their only on-site meal was lunch. Not everyone was in every class, of course; Hermione and several of the others had study periods during sessions of Muggle Studies (featuring the classic curriculum and a new, American professor), Divination, and Care of Magical Creatures.

Nobody quite knew what to say to her or each other for the first couple of days. Surprisingly, Malfoy and Nott cornered her after the first Arithmancy session; both shook her hand and congratulated her, but didn't add much commentary beyond that. They did, however, sit next to her during that class. The four Hufflepuffs (Abbott, Bones, Finch-Fletchley and Macmillan) stuck together and uncharacteristically eschewed socializing. On the first day back, Susan Bones gave Hermione the "cut direct," which was unfortunately not unexpected.

* * *

The September Azkaban visit began much as the previous ones had, although Pansy Parkinson, to Hermione's great surprise, asked how the term was going as they sat in the waiting room. Hermione replied that it was definitely different than previous years, and she honestly hoped it would go by quickly, after which Pansy chuckled and said she'd considered returning for less than a minute, but decided to travel instead. The other witches gave Hermione significant looks by which she assumed that the travel was being bankrolled by Lestrange's Galleons.

When she got to the visiting room, she was let in as usual, but Corban had yet to arrive. He was brought along by a smirking guard about fifteen minutes later, and he sat down at the table and gave her a broad smile. Hermione stood up and handed the usual large packet of homemade biscuits and several cartons of cigarettes to the guard, who pulled her aside and whispered, "Yaxley is still under the effects of Veritaserum; they questioned him about Dolohov this morning," and then he spoke up in a louder voice, "You have six hours!" before grabbing the gifts and leaving the room abruptly.

"Thought he'd never leave," Corban said, as he began laughing. "Come on, sweetheart, I was up all night waiting for today, and by that, I do mean up, I've had a permanent cockstand for about a week now, I was beginning to worry me todger might break off from overuse," he added, as he stood up, loosed his queue, and then abruptly dropped his trousers.

"So I see," Hermione said. "Are you going to be this forward for the entire six hours?"

"Most likely," he said. "Veritaserum has a rather profound effect on me," he said, as he took her hand and pulled her over toward the bed.

"Don't you want something to eat first?" Hermione said, and then blushed.

"You're all I want to taste right now; was rather hoping ye'd taste me at the same time in a bit," he said, as he winked at her and stripped off his tunic. "Come on, I want to see those beautiful breasts of yours and suck on your nipples for a while."

"Er…" Hermione slowly started to unbutton her robe and Corban began to growl in frustration. "I'd just vanish that damn robe if I had me wand…" and he paused and laughed, "I mean, me other one, the one that does magic…well, come to think of it, this one does, too," he said, as he took himself in hand. "Get on with it, lass, 'm going to explode all over meself if ye don't hurry up!"

Hermione started laughing. "I'm going to ask you some more questions, I think," she said.

By that time, Corban was pleasuring himself rather vigorously, and he grunted, "Ask what ye want, sweetheart! If I answer, will ye finish me off?"

"Yes," Hermione said. "What do you really think of me?"

"Oh Merlin," Corban groaned, "Ye _know_ I love ye, I'm besotted with ye, I wanted to fuck ye the minute I met ye…" he paused and then began breathing harder. "Ye're perfect, so beautiful and intelligent and I can feel your magic when I'm inside ye…please, lass, _please_ let me take ye now…" Hermione could no longer deny him.

Thirty minutes later, they lay together, sated.

"That was worth the wait," Corban said, as he pulled her closer. "Almost makes being in here tolerable."

"Are you still feeling the effects?"

"Yes, I suspect I have a while left to go, as I said; they gave me a rather large dose. That Weasley git was glaring daggers at me the entire time."

"What exactly happened with Dolohov? Why was he hiding in the woods?" Hermione asked.

"Tosha and I talked about it before the Final Battle. By then I'd convinced him with Arithmancy that the Dark Lord was going to lose. Once the Potter lad vanished from Hagrid's clutches, he Disapparated from Hogwarts straight to the woods near me Hall and set up camp. We weren't sure if ye would be the one to find him, but the sums strongly suggested you'd come to live at the Hall sooner than later; if ya didn't, though, if ye rejected me, Pucey was going to show up for his regular check of the house and alert the Aurors. Tosha agreed to be captured, come here, go on trial, and take the deportation option. All he wants is to go home to St Petersburg, ye see. He lived with me after he got out of prison for a while, but the Dark Lord made him move to Malfoy Manor." He paused. "He has nothing against ye, sweetheart; he sees ye as a worthy opponent. Although I wish he'd not done that curse on ye, most don't live after that one, ye have to be a strong witch or wizard to fight it off."

"What was that curse supposed to do?"

"It's a modified _Relashio_, or so he's always told me, to separate soul from body. I'm glad ye fought it off because I wouldn't want to live without ye," he added, and he kissed her. "Would ye mind if I brought the food over?" he asked, sliding over to the side of the bed and sitting up.

"No, I'm a little hungry myself. Why didn't you just Disapparate with Dolohov, when he left?" Hermione asked.

"Because of the Blood Oath we made, of course. The battle wasn't done yet," Corban said. "Had to make sure ye were safe, didn't I?" He walked over to the table and opened up the basket of food. "More roast beef, thank ye, sweetheart!"

"Did you tell all of what you just told me to the Aurors?"

He brought the platters of food back over to the bed and sat them down in front of Hermione, then climbed back into bed before answering her. "Not all of it; they didn't ask me the same questions. I told 'em that Tosha had lived with me before the War and that he came back ta hide in me woods because the wards recognized him," and he laughed. "Although they did ask me what me intentions were toward ye, and I _may_ have got on the Weasley lad's last nerve because I said straight out that I adored ye beyond reason and we were already engaged, so I obviously planned to marry ye and have children with ye. He had ta leave the room after that and he didn't come back," Corban said, chuckling, then picked up a sandwich and started to eat it with obvious gusto.

"I'm sure he did," Hermione said, with a wistful look. The idea of marriage and children with Ron was unpalatable, even if it were an option. "Er, I went in your old office, you know," she remarked, attempting to move past the subject of Ron, with whom she might well never get reconciled as a friend.

Corban blotted his mouth and said, "Gawain has it now, aye? It's a good office, has a nice view of the Atrium. I liked it."

"Yes, he does, and it is quite nice."

"I suppose he drank all me butterbeers," Corban said, smiling, as he reached into the basket for a butterbeer.

"There were still some left; I had one," she replied. "What were all those files doing in there, the ones from Umbridge's Commission?"

"I had them hid in there," Corban said. "Mafalda and Tobias and I did that, we took them from the Frog Princess. I Transfigured them to look like law books, but I timed it so they'd turn back after the Dark Lord was killed. I suppose I left a terrible mess for Gawain," he said. "I need to have Pucey tell him about that."

"It is a bit messy; he apologized to me that he hadn't cleared it out," Hermione said. "He had all your things in a carton, though, pictures and such. I saw your class picture."

"We were all goofing around during that, I remember it well," Corban said. He picked up another sandwich and took several bites out of it.

"How long have you been growing your hair?" Hermione asked, after she finished a butterbeer.

"Since I was a lad," he said. "It's traditional in me family. Most witches like it, and don't be telling me ye don't just because I said that, I've seen ye playing with it and ye said ye liked braiding it," he said, winking at her.

"Your picture winked at me, too, and I do like your hair," Hermione said. "What do you mean, you hid the files?"

"Just what it sounds like, I told ye I destroyed your file, and I hid as many of them as I could, and distracted the Frog Princess with pointless errands," Corban said. "Told her that the Dark Lord wanted things done certain ways, and I lied about just about all of that. She was up there having all her workers make those rubbish pamphlets most of the time, when she wasn't swanning about trying to get into Pius' trousers…_and_ mine," and he grimaced at this last.

"What?" Hermione said, with a similar grimace.

"Ye heard me, when Pius politely let her down—and he was much more polite than I would have been, apparently she came right out and invited him to her flat—she started making moves toward me. Tried to be polite at first, told her I was already involved with someone, but she was persistent, because the Heads of DMLE usually end up becoming Ministers sooner than later. Of course, I knew that the Dark Lord's reign would end long before that. I considered doing the Imperius to keep her away but I didn't want to get that close to her. Couldn't stand that perfume she wore!"

"I'm not even sure what to say to that," Hermione replied.

"I'd appreciate if ye never asked me about it again," Corban said.

.

.

.

AUTHOR'S NOTES

Thank you to all reviewers. I'd thought I was going to end this story fairly soon and there _may_ be a few more chapters than I'd originally intended—considering this started as a one-shot, that's saying something.

"The Ludovico Technique" is still chugging along, and I'll get back to that soon.

The Death Eater Express Plunny Factory had a suggestion about an Antonin/Corban/Hermione triad or polyfic, and…I might go there next. Who knows?


	11. Chapter 11

GODLESS

Chapter 11

_And I swear, I swear  
_

_**NOTE: SilverLioness, who originally requested this fic, assisted with writing the lemony goodness in this chapter. I took what she added in and ran with it.**_

"No worries on that score," Hermione said. "I'm out of questions at the moment," she added, as she picked up a sandwich, then reconsidered and sat it back on the platter.

Corban laughed. "This is a rare and special occasion, I reckon. I'd like to ask ye a question, if I may." He picked up an apple and took a bite out of it.

"Is this the Veritaserum talking?"

"Might be," he answered, after he ate half the apple. "Ye wanted to know how I felt about you, and now ye know. How do ye feel about me?" There was a pause, during which he finished the apple.

"Er…." Hermione said, rather uncharacteristically.

"That good, huh?" Corban said, chuckling. "I might could call in a favour and get some more Veritaserum in here." He tossed the spent apple core into the bin.

"I might be able to resist the effects," Hermione said. "But I've never taken it, so I wouldn't know."

"There _are_ some who can resist, which is why the Wizengamot sometimes does not accept testimony given as a result of it," he said, as he moved the platters onto the floor and then pulled her close. "But ye're evading my question, sweetheart."

"I was hoping you wouldn't notice."

"I wouldn't have been in my former career if I didn't notice most everything," he said. "I know ye care about me, and as I said I can feel the magic between us. If ye truly don't wish to answer me right now, all that's good enough to be going on with for me," he said, after which he kissed her thoroughly, exploring her mouth, tasting the sweetness for him to savour later. "It's more than many get in their marriages, more than me parents had," he said, as he stroked her cheeks with the tips of his roughly textured thumbs, a sharp contrast to her smooth skin. "Aye, I got a lot more."

She smiled shyly under his tender touch. "Please don't rush me on my feelings," she said, "Just know that I will keep my promise to you."

"I do not wish to hurry ye; I forget for all your stoic maturity ye are still a lass with dreams yet to be seen to fruition." He leaned closer and planted his lips on the spot on her neck that he knew that made her giggle, and she did. "But ye're my lass," he breathed down her neck, running his open mouth up and down the column of her throat. "This," kiss, "is," kiss, "mine!" He lowered his mouth to her uncovered shoulder and trailed both lips and tongue along her now quivering flesh. "Say it lass," he growled as his hands rubbed up and down her hips, and around cupping her bottom and lifting her up, "say ye're mine!"

"I'm yours," she murmured tilting her head back, offering all of herself to him like she had done during their previous times together. "You're right but…" she raised her fingers and used them to bar his way to her lips, gently pressing them against the sensuous shape of his mouth, "You do not own me except," she tilted her head to the side, "in the bedroom. In all other matters I am a free agent to do as I will and as I think, in the words of Belinda Carlisle….nobody owns me, nobody but you!"

"I like this Belinda Carlisle already!"

"Is," she sighed, gazing at him directly in the eye, "that clear?"

"So no threesomes then?" he waggled his eyebrows.

Her reply was a sharp, Snape-ish arch of an eyebrow and pursed lips. He grabbed hold of her wrist using the moment to drown in liquid pools of caramel delight. Still drowning, he opened his mouth and swallowed her fingers whole, languorously rolling his tongue around her digits mimicking what he really wanted her mouth to do on his hardening shaft.

"Not in the near future," she said. "But I'm not ruling anything out…"

"I shall keep that in mind, my little witch," he purred, "Right now, let's try something new."

"Like what?"

"Well," he sighed as he moved forward forcing her to fall back, "how about ye sit astride me?"

"Are you sure you want me to take control?" she said, smirking at him. Their previous encounters had all been directed by him, not that she had an issue with it; he was quite amorously talented. He moved her hand down to his hardness and said, "Someone needs to control this beast and ye've done a fine job of it so far. I need something to think about when ye're not here and he gets frisky again."

"How often does he get frisky?" she asked, looking down as she pumped her hand up and down him. He gasped in delight.

"All the damn time, like I told ye," he groaned, thrusting into her hand. "I could fuck ye for days and not get weary of it. When I get out, that's exactly what I plan to do."

"We'll need to sleep…and eat," she said, looking into his eyes and licking her lips.

"Sleep is overrated, we can take potions," he growled. "And ye can be on top of me in a bit, I can't wait much longer to have ye again," he added, as he slipped his hand down her and parted her folds with his fingers. She cried out in pleasure as he pumped his fingers in and out of her. "That's right, sweetheart, tell me how much ye like it!"

"Oh, Corban," she said, "So much!"

"Do ye want more?" he said, as he circled his thumb over her sensitive nub, causing her to cry out again.

"Please," she sighed.

"I'm at yer command, lass," he said, as he moved on top of her and replaced his fingers with his throbbing hardness. "I'm all yours, every bit of me," he growled. "Ye feel so good…" and he groaned with pleasure as he began to move inside her.

After the explosion, after they'd taken a minute to recover, he excused himself and stepped behind the screen, then washed his hands. He reached in the basket and selected two bottles of butterbeer, one of which he handed to Hermione, then he picked up the platter of sandwiches and sat it back on the bed in front of them.

"Thanks," Hermione said. "With all the Veritaserum-fueled excitement I haven't exactly had a chance to eat."

Corban laughed, after he demolished a sandwich. "Ye'd better hurry up before I finish the rest of these, then; ye know how much I like them!"

"I asked the elves to make more than last time, just for you," she said, then laughed, as they both reached for the same sandwich. She play-slapped his hand away and said, "Relashio!" He laughed harder; Hermione smiled back at him. She enjoyed watching him in good humour, as he had dimples. "Ah, ye're good at that one, I remember, ye were very convincing. Although there's part of me that wishes I'd just gone with ye that day. Probably wouldn't have had much of anythin' left to go back to after, though, they'd have forced Tosha to let 'em through me wards…" He let his voice drift off as he ate part of the sandwich.

"Plus you would have had to live in a tent with Harry, Ron and me for months, not sure how well _that_ would have worked," Hermione said.

"I'd have forced them to stay outside while the _scary Death Eater_ took advantage of ye," he said, and then he proceeded to eat the rest of the sandwich.

"It wouldn't really have been, er, taking advantage," she said, after a long pause during which she did a lot of blushing.

"When did ye start to feel it?" he asked. "The heat between us."

"When you kissed me at the Ministry," Hermione breathed.

"Would have done more than kissed if ye'd let me, although ye weren't exactly yourself that day—" he replied, chuckling. "I suppose ye mean when I knew who ye were."

"I thought about it for months."

"As did I," Corban said. "Was around that time, maybe a bit before, was when Mafalda started being busy whenever we had plans. I couldn't get me mind off ye after that. So about a week before the Final Battle I went to Algernon, told him I'd be offering for ye. I wasn't sure how things would go, the sums weren't exactly clear; there _was_ a slight chance I wouldn't make it. I wanted ye to be taken care of, though. Even if I'd been killed, the house would have been yours—I had him do up papers for that, to formally add ye to the family."

"He didn't tell me that."

"He had instructions to only say what was necessary. But there is more ye should know. My father was a rabid Pureblood supremacist. He told me once in secret that he'd been a supporter of Grindelwald. Ye haven't seen his portrait because I had the elves hide it away when he fell asleep. I…er, well, I might have told him…well, his portrait, of course…that ye were of the Dagworth-Grangers, from Australia, half-blood. He wasn't exactly overjoyed, ye could say. Algernon had the instructions if I didn't make it, to have his portrait permanently stored…er, elsewhere."

"Is that where that family is actually from? Professor Slughorn mentioned Hector Dagworth-Granger in our Potions class."

"Good old Sluggy. I need to have Algernon send him a letter, we have some unfinished business." He paused and took a drink of butterbeer. "About that family, er, no idea, I picked a place far enough away that none of the other portraits would know much about it if he asked about it, ye see. Our family hasn't done much traveling. All I know is that they have something ta do with potions."

"So I've been told. Well, you weren't completely lying to him," Hermione said. "My parents are actually in Australia."

"I _did_ wonder where ye sent the Muggles that day."

Hermione frowned. "I really do wish you wouldn't use that tone of voice whilst referring to my parents."

"I've been meaning to ask, are ye _quite_ sure ye don't have a witch or wizard ancestor? Perhaps a cousin or a great-aunt—possibly your parents, er, just didn't tell you…" Corban looked rather uncomfortable.

Hermione frowned. "After all we've shared together…after what we just did….have you, all this time, actually been hoping that by some small chance I'm not Muggleborn?"

He very visibly squirmed, took a deep breath, and then said, "Er…maybe a little bit, lass."

"You _do_ understand that I won't be raising any children that we might have with that prejudice?" Hermione asked, pointedly.

"I would expect no less," Corban said, looking straight at her. "I'm sorry…" he grimaced and then looked away from her, and let his voice drift off, and then there was a long, awkward silence during which neither of them looked at each other. He picked up another sandwich and slowly took bites out of it, but sat it down before finishing it.

"Ye can call the guard if ye want to leave now," he finally said.

"Why would I want to do that? I'm sure we still have a fair bit of time." She glanced down at herself. "And I'm not calling him until I put my robe back on, anyway."

"Ye're upset with me," he said.

"I'm upset at what you said. I didn't say I wanted to leave."

"I can't help it. I warned ye about the Veritaserum. I don't see you as inferior, sweetheart, I hope ye understand that. I don't want to sound like me father. It's why my mum left him, he was constantly on about blood purity, and it's all he ever talked about, really. When I was tryin' to hide in plain sight at the Ministry all I had to do was remember how he blethered on of an evening and repeat it. Bloody well boring if ye ask me."

"It's more than simply boring; some of your colleagues were prepared to kill me over it! And it's not as if Voldemort was a Pureblood, either. Why didn't you try to talk some sense into more of them?"

He visibly flinched at the Dark Lord's name. "I did with Tosha, and Tobias and Dexter as well. I wasn't close to most of the rest, not that some of those had much sense to begin with, as I told ye. And the Frog Princess is a liar; she's no more a Pureblood than _he_ was. Her own bloody Commission would have sent her away; I had her file in me office…I need to tell Algernon about that."

"She's in here, you know; Kingsley made sure of it," Hermione said, a bit nastily, as she was still slightly annoyed.

"I obviously didn't know that," Corban replied, with a grimace. "They separate witches and wizards by floor."

"Don't you, er, see everyone when you go out to the yard or something?" Hermione pictured orange-jumpsuited wizards looming around basketball courts and exercise equipment to the tune of American rap music; although she knew that idea was all based on telly shows from her youth.

"We aren't allowed outdoors," Corban said, sharply.

"Not ever?"

"Not until the trials and even then we'll just be taking secured Portkeys. It's a bit difficult to suppress our magic outside, ye see."

"No wonder you want to sleep outdoors when you get home," Hermione remarked. "I never did get to the clearing that day I found Dolohov."

"Save it for when I get there, sweetheart, if ye would. I want to be the one to show it to ya, to welcome ya officially to the family."

"Are you certain you want to do that, considering my unfortunate heritage?"

"Hermione," he turned to her and looked her right in the eye. "Ye know I'm bloody well sorry I said that. It's difficult to overcome a lifetime of indoctrination." He paused for a moment and took a couple more bites from the sandwich, finishing it, and then blotted his mouth before speaking up again. "Yer parents clearly cared about ye, and I'm glad ye had a good life. But what if after Professor McGonagall came to give ye yer letter, what if yer parents thought you were evil for being a witch? What if they'd tried to take away your magic; lock you away in a Muggle place where the healers would give ye Muggle potions to stop your abilities? What if the persecutions started again, the burnings and the hangings?"

"We were taught in History of Magic that witches and wizards were able to escape those persecutions."

"And ye believed that?"

"I…well, I _did_ think it seemed a bit white-washed, but I never had time to do much research on such things; I memorized the dates required to get my OWL. The only thing remotely interesting about the class was that it was taught by a ghost, and that novelty wore off rather quickly."

"As it did when he taught me," Corban replied. "When ye get home, go in the library and summon a few of the older histories. I'm not saying that the world the Dark Lord wanted was right—as we both know, he was more interested in his own skin than anything else. But ye need to understand why the older families felt necessary to band together for protection."

"What's so 'sacred' about that?" Hermione asked.

"Over time, traditions became dogma and then dogma became rhetoric and that rhetoric was very comforting to some witches and wizards, especially when they didn't have a whole lot else going for them…like the Crabbes and the Goyles and the Averys, to give a few obvious examples."

"And what about the Yaxleys?"

"As I just said, my father lived and died by the gospel of blood purity. I suppose you could say it was my teenage rebellion, to start doing the Arithmancy after I learned it, to prove him bloody well wrong. He'd already pressured me into joining up with the Dark Lord, and I was miserable."

"Was he involved?" Hermione asked.

"Of course," Corban said. "He wasn't the first in line, but he was a true believer. Not long after the Dark Lord died—well, after we all thought he died—Father died as well, and I've always suspected it was from sheer disappointment. We weren't speaking during that time, so I don't know many details." He paused. "Sweetheart, please don't go lookin' for his portrait, no matter how much ye start wonderin' about what he was like. I know ye're a curious sort."

"I did look around your old office," Hermione said. "But I've not gone in your rooms at …er, at home."

"I'm glad ye called it that," he said, with a small smile. "It's not in there, anyway. I like a pleasant atmosphere to sleep in. I can't wait until I take ye in me own bed, until I wake up with ye in me arms. I think about that all the time." He took a drink of butterbeer. "Sometimes I dream of it, and I've dreamt about our children."

Although she had attempted to stay annoyed at him after his slightly bigoted remark, his last comment touched her, and she said, "What are the dreams like?"

He sat the empty butterbeer bottle down, stretched his hands over his head, reclined back on the pillows and crooked his finger to beckon her closer. She lay down beside him and he fitted himself around her and sighed with pleasure before he began talking in a low, soothing rumble, stroking her hair as he did so. "In the dreams, we have a boy and a girl, fraternal twins; their hair is like a mixture of ours…so ye'd better start stocking up on the Sleekeazy's." He chuckled at this last part. "They're both quite intelligent, they're constantly in the library, but they play outside as well, and they have lots of little friends who come to visit. In one of the dreams, 'twas a very nice one indeed, we were all together down Diagon, buyin' their wands, and then seein' them off to school. Ye were in yer Wizengamot robes. That particular dream ended before the children got Sorted, unfortunately."

"Let's hope for Ravenclaw," Hermione said.

"I'd be happy with that," he said.

"Do your dreams often come true? Are your family Seers?"

"We are the wise ones of the cuckoo clearing, remember?"

"I thought that was just…well, I suppose I didn't really consider what it actually meant."

"Have ye not read about it?"

"I've been busy getting ready for NEWTs and doing rebuilding duty."

"How many NEWTs are ye going for?" he asked.

"I'm studying for seven currently; I may add in Muggle Studies, there's a new American professor who seems interesting."

"That'd be a soft option for you, lass, but if ye think it necessary…" his voice drifted off. "I do wish ye'd been raised in our culture, sweetheart, ye'd already know about our family background." He kissed her neck. "When it comes right down to it, we have always adapted and changed with the times; me father was a throwback. All I ask of ye is that ye respect me traditions."

"I can do that."

"And if ye haven't managed to lift the charm on yer parents by the time I get out, I'll assist ye with that."

"I've been thinking it might be best to wait until you get out of here to do that, actually," she said.

"Mmm-hmm," he muttered, into her hair, as he kissed the top of her head. "Good thinking." They dozed off a bit after that; Hermione woke up abruptly when Corban started softly cursing to himself as he sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed.

"What?"

"It's just that I'm sure they'll be along any minute; it was so pleasant sleeping with ye—I mean really sleeping, I almost forgot where I was for a moment," he said, as he tossed her robe to her, and then pulled his tunic over his head. "I don't want them to come in and see me todger swayin' in the breeze." He grabbed his trousers and stepped into them. "Nor do I want them to see yer lovely body, 'cause that sight's just for me-ye'd better get dressed." She slowly sat up, stretched, and then stood up and reached for her robe.

"Damn, I wish we had more time," he said. "Don't think I can bribe 'em into any more hours next month, they told me none of us can get overnight visits until the trials start."

"Mr Pucey told me it's a sure thing that they'll start in January, and he doesn't expect them to go overly long." She slipped her robe over her head and fastened up the top button, then glanced around for her shoes.

"He's said that to us as well. I think they've already started the process for the deportations; Tosha mentioned something the other day. It's also possible that there may be a house arrest option for some of us."

"Do you think you might get that? Would you be let out straight away, then?"

"I didn't want to tell ye in case it didn't happen, but I would—it doesn't hurt to be engaged to a war heroine," he said, looking directly at her and winking. "I'd be confined to the grounds of the Hall and me magic would be restricted for five years, at the very least. They have a Restricted Wand Program, so I'm told; probably couldn't do much more than Summon things, but better than nothing. And there'd be monthly Auror visits."

"Depending on which Aurors, that doesn't sound so bad."

"Fairly sure the one ye're worried about wouldn't volunteer for the duty," he said, smirking. Just as she started to reply, two knocks sounded on the door. He reached for her and kissed her quickly, muttering, "I love ye," then stepped away as the guards entered and pointed their wands at him.

One of the guards looked wistfully at the mostly decimated platter of sandwiches, and Corban smiled and gestured at it, raising his eyebrows and smiling.

"Thanks, Yax," the guard replied. "Can I have one of these butterbeers, as well?"

"Absolutely," he replied. "Take the rest of the leftovers, too—"While the guard loaded himself down with food and drink, Corban walked over to Hermione and clasped her hands in his.

"I'll see you next month," Hermione said.

"Until then, sweetheart."  
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AUTHOR'S NOTES

As always, thank you to all reviewers! Your comments make my day.

A thousand thanks go to Silver Lioness for assistance with the lemony goodness. I've been having a number of personal issues over the last year or so and thus have been constantly blocked in my attempts to write lemons. (However, fandom is keeping me mostly sane).

The "unfinished business" with Slughorn is a reference to the Pottermore material collected in "Short Stories from Hogwarts of Power, Politics and Pesky Poltergeists," which is where JKR finally gave Yaxley a canon first name. (As I previously mentioned, he has had so many first names in fanfic that I have trouble keeping track. I prefer the canon name!)

I just recently viewed the deleted scenes from Crimes of Grindelwald, so I couldn't resist adding in Corban's horrible crazy-eyed father.

We are very near the end of this tale!


	12. Chapter 12

GODLESS

Chapter 12

October and November's Azkaban visits were rather prosaic; no arguments or Veritaserum-fueled confessions occurred. Hermione was distracted with her NEWT study schedule, although she'd decided against taking Muggle Studies and/or sitting for the exam. Draco and Theo Nott, who were required to take the subject as part of their probation, explained that the new professor—who was from the Salem Witches' Institute, not Ilvermorny—was working at Hogwarts as part of a reciprocal agreement with MACUSA. She was from the American South and very outspoken during class, but reserved otherwise. Hermione had seen her in the hallway; she superficially resembled Tonks as she had brightly-colored hair (which seemed to change weekly). Meanwhile, the alliances and antipathies that had arisen at the start of their Eighth Year continued; Hermione carried on and hoped that things would eventually improve.

Ginny, Harry, George and Angelina became Hermione's regular dinner companions and occasional overnight guests at the Hall. Harry's overtly disparaging comments about Corban decreased as the months wore on. Reemy had taken to Harry and always made certain there was a treacle tart at pudding, just for him. The four friends had begun making arrangements for a double wedding to be held at some point in the summer. As Ginny had invited Hermione to be in the wedding party, she immediately requested that they wait until after the NEWTs; thus, the tentative date was the Summer Solstice. Meanwhile, Ginny told her, Ron was getting rather serious about Romilda Vane; Mrs Weasley had taken to inviting her to Sunday dinner even though she was still in school. Hermione had glimpsed the black-haired witch a few times in the library and elsewhere, and had gone out of her way to avoid her.

In December, an overnight Azkaban visit was permitted in honour of the holiday season, during which Hermione came to two realizations: first, the bed in the conjugal visit room was barely sufficient for a full night's sleep, and second, unfortunately, Corban snored rather loudly, which would have been fine if she'd been able to cast a Silencing Charm, but wands were still not allowed in the room. She chose not to discuss either subject over their slightly festive yet unsatisfying breakfast (provided by the prison kitchens) the next morning and simply skipped a day of classes in favour of getting more rest.

The trials began in January, prior to the scheduled visiting day, and continued on through March. The Ministry, as both Mr Pucey and Corban had suspected, had chosen to keep the docket alphabetical. Avery was given a life sentence and granted a divorce on the same day. Dolohov's trial was short; he was deported to Russia post-haste. Crabbe and Goyle received fifteen-year sentences and the Lestranges received life sentences (with possibility of parole). Macnair was also deported, and he and the former Mrs Avery relocated to the United States; they were permitted a short wedding ceremony at Mr Pucey's office, which Hermione attended. The Malfoys, Selwyn, Travers and Corban were all sentenced to house arrest; Corban's was set at ten years. Mr Pucey recommended that he take it; in return, he was able to negotiate Corban's early entry into the Restricted Wand Program, beginning in September, and they made arrangements to work on the appeal process.

And thus, Corban returned home on the Spring Equinox, with a full fanfare of Ministry bureaucracy accompanying him. Fortuitously, as Hogwarts' Easter holiday occurred the week after that, Hermione had made arrangements to be out of school for three weeks, rather than the customary two-week period. The same Aurors who had captured Dolohov (including Ron) escorted him to the gate, where Hermione and the house-elves awaited. Harry smiled broadly and Robards gave her a polite nod, but Ron installed a permanent grimace on his face and refused to meet her eyes, especially when Corban rushed forward and took her in his arms. He was carrying a small bag of magically-reduced possessions and wearing a plain black robe (which Hermione had brought him to wear at the trials).

"Sweetheart," he whispered in her ear, between kisses. "Once they're done with all their nonsense, let's go upstairs so I can get cleaned up a bit, and then we'll go to the clearing." Hermione smiled and nodded and kissed him back, all the while attempting to ignore Ron's glowering. Luckily, the Ministry requirements didn't take that long; Hermione signed a large stack of parchment, hugged Harry, and shook Robards' hand. Corban remained silent and compliant until Ron looked straight at him and made a comment under his breath just as the group turned to leave.

"Pardon, Mr Weasley, but did ya have something ya want ta say ta me?"

Proudfoot and Dawlish had already stepped through the front door, but Harry, Robards and Ron turned.

"Ron—"Harry said, putting a hand on his arm. "Remember what we talked about before we came here. Let's just go, mate."

"No," Ron said. "I do have something to say to you, Yaxley."

Everyone paused in an awkward little tableau for a bit after that; Hermione glimpsed Robards quietly slipping his wand out of its holster.

"Speak yer piece, Mr Weasley," Corban finally said, as Hermione clutched at his arm and attempted to meet Ron's gaze.

"You'd bloody well better treat Hermione right," Ron said, quietly, as he stared resolutely at Corban. "She's a loyal friend and an outstanding witch and she's too good for the likes of you."

"On most of that we agree," Corban said. Ron gave him a short, sharp nod and then shook Harry's hand off his arm and marched through the doorway.

"Sorry, Hermione," Harry said. "He'd promised me he'd be polite."

"That was far better than I expected," Hermione said, as she released Corban's arm and went over to hug Harry again. "You and Gin are coming for dinner on Saturday as usual, yes?" Harry looked at Corban, who raised his eyebrows.

"I haven't been apprised of me social calendar as yet, Mr Potter, but I have no issue with it; I look forward to seeing ye," he said. Harry nodded politely at him, then turned and walked through the door with Robards. Once the chime rang, indicating that everyone had exited the wards, Corban turned and started walking upstairs.

"Do you still want me to come with you?" Hermione asked.

"'Course I do—I'm just excited to get up there," he replied, as he turned and extended his hand to her. She took it and they continued up the stairs together. "Let's go open up me room. I do hope ye'll be sleepin' with me rather than in yer suite."

"Er…" Hermione began. "Only if I can put a Silencing Charm on you."

"Oh," Corban said, looking a bit sheepish. "Sorry, lass. There's a potion I can drink for that. Forgot to ask ye to bring it. Probably wouldn't have been allowed."

She smiled at him. "It's all right. I needed to take a day off studying, anyway."

When they reached the double doors, he indicated she should open them with her wand. His bedroom was large and airy and nearly identical to her room, other than that the furnishings seemed slightly larger, although that might have been an illusion, as they were all draped. Reemy and another house-elf appeared and vanished the coverings, opened the windows to air out the room, banished the dust, changed the sheets and coverlet, brought in a stack of clean towels, washcloths and robes, and took his bag of possessions away to clean and store them. Before the elves vanished, Corban smiled at Reemy and asked that she bring a tray of tea and savories in about forty-five minutes to which the elf replied, "Reemy is glad you is home, Master Corban." Hermione decided that she'd ignore the honorific this time.

Once they were alone, he led her to the bath and immediately stripped off his slippers and socks and robe and pulled the hair tie from his hair, tossed all the items to the floor, pointed at them with a scowl and said, "Please, sweetheart." Hermione promptly pointed her wand and Vanished them, then swung her wand over herself and intoned "Devestire." Her clothes disappeared and reappeared in a neat stack on the windowsill. "I'll have ye do that one next time," he said, chuckling. "Right now I need ye to join me in the shower; need to get that horrid smell off." She pointed her wand at the shower and started it up. "I understand," she said, as she took his hand and stood next to him under the hot spray. He scrubbed himself down thoroughly, and she scrubbed his back for him. He reached for an unmarked blue bottle and poured the contents over his head and sighed with pleasure. "Never felt clean while I was there," he said, as he worked the shampoo through his hair and then rinsed it out. "Never felt warm, either, except when I was with ye," he murmured, as he pulled her close and kissed her…their soap-slicked bodies slid together in an irresistible rhythm and she felt his insistent hardness poking at her belly. "Wanted to wait until we got to the clearing but I can't," he rumbled in her ear. "Would ye dry us off?" She summoned her wand wordlessly and flicked it over both of them as he picked her up and carried her to the bed.

"I stopped the potion last month," she murmured, as they lay down together.

"Oh sweetheart," he sighed, as he rolled on top of her and parted her thighs. His unbound hair slid over his shoulders and hung down between them. "Are ye…are ye sure?"

"Yes," she replied. "You're home, aren't you?"

"I am now," he growled, as he slid into her.

* * *

An hour later, clad in loose-fitting wool robes that Corban had taken from his closet, and with some blankets and pillows and a large jug of mead floating between them, they made their way through the woods to the clearing, which was an idyllic place ringed by old-growth trees. There was a small summer-house off to the side, but Corban led them directly to the center of the grove and directed Hermione to spread the blankets on the ground and add a cushioning charm under them. He then stood in front of her and took both her hands in his. "I love ye, and I wish to handfast with ye today; we can have whatever kind of marriage ceremony ye want when ye're done with exams, but I need to prove to ye that I don't wish for us to be parted." He looked directly at her; she inhaled sharply, shocked by the intensity of his gaze.

"What—what's involved with that, exactly?"

"It's what me ancestors used to do long before there was ever the idea of a Ministry, before everything, including marriage, was regulated like it is now," he said. "We make a vow to each other. I was going to wait until I had me wand but we're here in the clearing and the magic will recognize what we're doing." He gestured at the small moss-covered standing stone near them. "That marks a line of magic, I'm sure ye know about them—"

"A ley line," Hermione replied.

"Aye," Corban said. "This is where me ancestors lived when they first came to these lands from the old lands, from across the sea; that wee house over there is built on the foundation of the original house. They found this area pleasant, as I hope ye do."

"It's beautiful and peaceful here," Hermione said. "I like it very much."

"I liked me mum's house," Corban said. "But I always liked it better here despite me father, and I look forward to spending the rest of me life here with ye." He leaned forward and kissed her lightly. "And so I do vow, on me magic," he added.

"And I vow the same to you, on mine," Hermione replied. He reached in his robe pocket and withdrew a ring identical to the one she was wearing on her ring finger, and handed it to her. She somehow knew to put it on his ring finger, and he smiled and kissed her again. "And now we seal it, "he said, as he knelt down and gently tugged on her hand. They sat together on the blanket and he poured out glasses of mead for them; the drink was strong and sweet and had echoes of summer in it. Hermione asked for another glass and he chuckled. "It has a strong effect to it, but I'm not complaining, mind ye…"

"What effect? What kind of mead is it?"

"It's woodruff mead, it's like a mild lust potion," he said, smiling. "Not that we really need it. I'll have another as well, though," and he drained his glass and poured out two more. She'd barely finished her glass when he grabbed her and pulled her up onto his lap, somehow moving his robe aside as he did so. "Ride me," he said, as he pulled her robe up and moved his hand down to position himself at her entrance. "Oh _fuck_ yes, sweetheart, that's perfect," he growled, as she sank down onto him; he grabbed her and spread her wide and began to thrust into her, as they both groaned in pleasure….and they spent hours in blissful ecstasy, in every position that they knew and even a few that they imagined they'd invented, as the sun slowly moved toward the western horizon and the stars began to shine above.

The summer-house, in true wizarding fashion, was larger on the inside and featured a bath, a bedroom and a small kitchen, but they opted to sleep outside (after Hermione had Reemy bring a certain potion from the Hall). They spent most of the first week wrapped up in each other in the clearing. When an insistent, unseasonable cold front moved through, bringing chill rains with it, they retreated to the Hall and spent several days in the library; he quizzed her on Arithmancy and Runes, and stated that he was certain she could take both NEWTs then and there and pass them with flying colours.

* * *

On Saturday, Ginny, Harry, George and Angelina arrived for dinner and gaming, and Hermione and Corban decorously met them at the front gate. Once everyone filed into the receiving room and tea was served, Ginny pulled Hermione aside.

"You seem to have a glow about you, Hermione—should I even ask?"

"You can _ask_, but you'll have to wait for the details until witches' night in," she replied.

"Fair enough. He can't keep his eyes off you; it's rather odd to see him smiling like that, he seems a lot different from the pictures I saw in the _Prophet_. Ronnikins still keeps trying to insist to us that he's the next incarnation of the Dark Lord, but he eventually grudgingly admitted that he'd promised to treat you right. Strangely enough, Mum told Ron that he should just be glad his friend was happy. I think the next engagement's going to be with him and Romilda."

"I wish him all the best, and you can tell him I said that. He actually was fairly civil when he talked to Corban…but I suspect it'll be a while until we invite him to dinner."

"Yeah, I wouldn't go there _just_ yet," Ginny said, as she hugged Hermione. The two walked back to the table and sat down just in time for Reemy to pour them tea. 

**THE END**  
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AUTHOR'S NOTES

And so we come to the end of this tale, which was originally supposed to be a one-shot. I hope you've enjoyed it….and many thanks to all who liked/favorited/(and especially) reviewed, you really make my day!

The Muggle Studies professor is my OC Inanna, for those who have read my old fic trilogy (originally published in 2002).


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